Breakaway
by Jenna Black
Summary: "What do we do? Where do we go? If a prison's not safe, where the hell is?" She asked, her voice growing a little softer the more she spoke. They would never make it far in this state, even she knew it. She shook her head, trying to bury all thoughts of everything but survival into a place to be dealt with later. "Daryl, what's the plan?" Rating changed to M and Ch 9 now up!
1. Chapter 1

Breakaway

By Jenna Black

A/N: I don't really know what to say at this point, except for welcome! There is no update schedule to this story, as unfortunately, anytime I commit to one of those it goes downhill rather quickly. I can say that I am already deeply invested in this story, and have much more planned and written out. For those of you who have stumbled upon this by chance, there is a companion story to this called "Winters Warmth" You can find it on my profile page. That was meant to be a one shot, but before I had it halfway written I realized I was already in love with the idea I had, and now can't wait to experience writing them. I have already switched gears and changed some things from that to here, so do not consider it a completely accurate predictor of things in this. Thank you!

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Chapter 1

"Around here, around here!" Daryl yelled, and grabbed Beth, throwing her into an alcove formed by the prison wall. Gunshots rang out around them; one of the attackers had made it up to the tower and was laying down cover fire. "Gimme that" he said, taking the machine gun out of her trembling hands. "Let's see how that bastard likes being the one shot at instead!" The first few shots missed the tall man, but the second round connected somewhere; he tumbled over the railing and was quickly taken out by a couple of walkers. He looked at Beth; she was shivering, and if he had to guess, fighting off going into shock. Hell he was fighting off going into shock with all that had happened. "Beth. Beth. Beth!" He finally had to slap her to bring her out of it. "I don't need you to think right now, but I need you to stay close and follow me. Okay?"

"What do we do? Where do we go? If a prison's not safe, where the hell is?" She asked, her voice growing a little softer the more she spoke. Her spirit was giving out, even if she didn't have any wounds on her body. They would never make it far with her in this state, even she knew it. She shook her head, as they started jogging away from the wall, trying to bury all thoughts of everything but survival into a place to be dealt with later. "Daryl, what's the plan?" She asked, hoping he had some sort of solution in mind.

He surveyed the spot around them. They were far enough away from the battle that the walkers hadn't made it over here yet. Even from this distance though, he could see there was no saving the prison, the living area where the cars and his bike rested were completely overrun. "We gotta get outta here somehow. " He muttered, thinking about where they were. It wasn't too far to get to the section of prison they had never bothered to clear of walkers; the walls were down, so it hadn't been worth the trouble. But that was just going from the frying pan into the fire. There was no safe place anymore, and the agitation he felt that they were right back where they had started was getting him worked up. He felt her grabbing his shirt "What do you want?" He asked her, but didn't get an answer, just more damn tugging on his arm. "I'm thinking" He turned and yelled at her.

"I know that dummy," she said, "but you weren't hearing me. Look…" She pointed to outside the prisons gates. All the walkers from the far end of the prison were traveling along the fence, drawn to the noise and action down by their portion. "I was never at the other section of prison – is there a place there we could get through to get out?"

"If most of them are working their way to our side, we just might. " He answered. He closed his eyes quickly, drawing up a map of the far side of the prison in his mind. With his eyes closed he noticed everything was dull and muted on his left side. All the explosions musta done a number on his ears. "I can't hear out my left side" he said, pulling on his ear as he was saying it… now that he had noticed, it was bothering him tremendously. It made them open and exposed to more danger. "I need you to be my ears in there. We gonna be in tight, cramped, quarters in there – sound travels too much. If ya hear something, I need you to grab me and point me where it's coming from, ya hear?" She nodded her head. "Alright then. How much ammo we got?"

"As much as is in the gun," she replied, showing that there wasn't much. "I have my six-shooter, but only a pocketful of rounds." She gestured to her pants pocket. She was too tiny for that pocket to hold too many in there. "My knife got left in a walker." She gestured back the way they came. He had two knives on him, and passed the smaller of the two to her.

"Don't lose it, that's my favorite one." He said to here. He would have given her the other, but it was more than two inches longer, and he had issues hanging on to the bigger ones, let alone her. "Follow me." He led her out of the hideaway, around the side of the prison. About two hundred yards past, they reached the end of the line. This was where they had built up the wall to block off access from the other side. The last good guard tower and section of fence was attached to vehicles, concrete blocks, and anything else they could find to block the walkers from their side of the prison. "Be careful," he said to her, "This things prone to movin' a bit."

Beth nodded her head and started to climb. It was solid enough in its enormity to keep the walkers out, but she could definitely see what Daryl had meant once she'd gone more than a couple feet. The car that was the base of the wall had flat tires, but the suspension must still have worked, when Daryl started climbing behind her she could feel herself sway. She climbed quickly but carefully, trying her best to always move upwards, though with the way things were stacked she could see that both she and Daryl had moved several feet to the side just to get higher. "Ah!" She cried out. During the time they had been climbing, a group of walkers had made their way over and was grabbing at her leg. Daryl was up higher than her, and out of their reach, but he couldn't get his crossbow out to take a shot. He quickly tried counting, planning to jump down to fight, but once he saw more than eight he knew he couldn't handle them on his own like that. All he could do was help pull her up.

"Grab on!" He yelled down to her. She wasn't climbing anymore, there wasn't a place for her to put her feet that would keep her out of the walkers grasp; all she was doing was stamping their hands whenever they got too close. She was down and to his left, but just out of reach. When he tried to shimmy down closer the entire wall felt like it would topple. "Beth, you gotta trust me," He yelled to her. "Jump and grab my hand. I won't let ya go." He only hoped the shifting weight wouldn't bring any of the wall down. They had tested the other side thoroughly to make sure no one could climb or shift it from the other side, but apparently no one had thought to do that to this side. "You gotta do it now Beth, we don't have much longer!" The crowd below them had grown to more than twenty now, just standing here, he could feel the entire wall swaying from the crushing weight of the undead.

Blood rushing, she looked down one more time, and jumped.

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Adrenaline will do funny things to you. In this instance, it gave Beth the feeling of flying, as she jumped with all of her strength as far as she could. There was one terrifying moment where she felt herself start to fall, and then a strong hand grabbed hold of her arm and swung her into the wall. She hit hard on her right side and felt all the air leave her lungs. Struggling to breath, she started grabbing for the wall. Here there were places she could reach, and soon she and Daryl were at the top of the wall looking down.

"Small mercies" She muttered quietly, laughing bitterly inside. All the work they had done to build this wall, and now rather than keeping the corpses out, it was keeping them in. There was a couple here and there on the other side that she could see, someone that was once a guard, a couple prisoners and a woman dressed like a librarian. None were particularly vigorous looking. She was pretty certain Daryl could take them on even if she wasn't there. "Where are we headed to next?" she asked, surveying the land below. There was rubble all over the place, and giant chunks of the building were missing.

"Follow along the top of this 'till we hit the building. Better chance of getting down safe and ready to swing that way." He led her along the top of the wall, picking a way through the debris. When they reached the walls juncture with the building, Beth was relieved to find the ground had sloped up. Instead of the twenty feet drop they were looking at when they had first reached the top, it was down to only 10 or so. "I only got 4 bolts left, so I'll take what I can out, but we both best be ready to fight."

Beth watched him raise the crossbow; the sight of it calmed her down a bit. Without missing a shot the first four were quickly dispatched. After that Daryl dropped down and took out the other two with his knife. When it was over and done he came back over to where she was working her way down. When she was about five feet off the ground she could feel the press of walkers on the other side, the wall was pulsing almost, as it gave way, about to give out. She jumped, grabbed onto Daryl, and started running for the woods. They had just reached the first outcropping of trees when she realized just how hurt she was. "Shit." She bit out, slowing down. Her side was killing her, and grabbing it, she could feel a trail of sticky wet heat making its way down her side. "Daryl, I have a problem."

"Oh shit" He echoed, looking at her and seeing the trail of blood. It had reached down to her knee already, and she was already turning sickly pale from blood loss. Looking back, he could see a dozen or more walkers slowly making their way towards them. "We gotta get a little bit further." He gently put her arm around his neck, and struggling, made their way into the woods. "Ya see that ridge there?" He motioned in front of her. It wasn't all that far off, but in her condition it looked miles away. "We get there and I got a supply bag. Insurance policy when I was hunting. There's more ammo, some food, and basic first aid. We get that bag and then we gotta go west; we'll end up right in the nearest development. Get us a house to hide out in and a place to patch you up." He talked as they walked, trying to give her something to focus on other than the pain. He was scared though, at the rate they were going they weren't gonna make it, not between the walkers and the wound. They had to come up with something else.

"Daryl," she whimpered, after they had walked for either a lifetime or ten minutes, Beth wasn't sure which. "You gotta go, just put me outta my misery first" she said to him. She could do the math too, and minus a miracle, she didn't see herself getting out of this alive. "Just don't let them get me alive" She told him.

"Shut yer trap." He bit out at her "I ain't losing you too. We'll get outta this, just give me a sec." He stopped walking for moment. They were deep in the woods now, and it was silent but for the rustling leaves. He couldn't hear gunshots anymore, which meant the battle was over; he only hoped more of them had gotten out of there. He let out the bird whistle he had taught Michonne, Rick, Maggie and Glenn, holding his breath hoping to hear something. At first all he could hear was Beth's shallow breaths, but then the groans of a couple of walkers came from somewhere off to his right. Beth was in no condition to fight, and he knew they would be running into walkers all over these woods. "Tuck in here" he told Beth, bring her to a fallen tree, he helped her lay on the ground and covered her partially with leaves. "Stay here." He told her, and hoped the grunt she made was supposed to be yes.

The first walker was close now. He grabbed his knife and with a disgusting squelch put it down. He dragged the body over to Beth and left it leaning against the tree, partially over her. Hopefully that would be enough to disguise her smell for now. He stood silently and brought his bow up, as a trio of walkers made their way towards him. They looked to be a family, with a little boy between the two adults. With a sigh of defeat, he pulled the trigger. He hated taking out kids. The parents were quickly dispatched, and he retrieved his arrows, wiping the blood on his pants. The blood shone in the setting sun, and Daryl had an idea.

When he got back to Beth she was passed out. "You're gonna be madder than hell when you wake up," he told her "but this is the only way I can think of to get through here, 'specially with that hole in your hide." Biting his tongue to help settle his stomach, he gutted the walker that was now lying next to her. Careful to avoid any place that had any cuts or wounds, he painted both their bodies in the blood. Their clothing was already ripped and dirty from the fight, but it twisted his stomach to have to put some on her hair. "Your head releases the most heat, and that hair of yours smells like dessert to these things." He talked, hoping something of what he was saying was getting through to her. She was starting to make noises as he moved her at least, and hoped that meant she'd be coming around soon.

With a start her eyes opened. She looked at Daryl, then down at herself, and then the smell hit her. Throwing up against the tree, she carefully worked her way up to standing, with his help. "What did you do to me?" She asked him, raising her arms away from her body in an effort to now notice how truly disgusting she felt.

"It's camouflage." He told her quietly. "We got too many walkers between here and where we need to be. It'll make 'em less likely to notice us, 'specially since we're gonna be limping along thanks to you." He motioned to her gash. "I didn't put any bits or blood where you're cut. We stay silent but for groans near 'em, and we should make it ok." She nodded. He went beside her and stooped a little to help her walk. Thankfully there wasn't all that much of a height difference between them anymore.

"How did you think of this?" She asked him, hoping for a distraction from the pain. Her side felt like it was on fire, and her head was pounding. Everything was slightly blurry, and she needed something to keep her focused. Thinking back, she had been told of the escape from Atlanta, but it was the last thing on her mind before she woke up. A walker came near them, so they shuffled silently for a while, other than a groan from Beth when she moved the wrong way. The walker looked at them for a moment, sniffed the air, and shuffled on its way. She let out a deep breath once they lost sight of it.

"Getting my arrows back, I wiped them on my pants." He told her, and looked around quickly, thinking he had heard something. There was nothing around. They were both going to be extra jumpy for a while. The sun was truly setting now; they would be able to make it to the bag of supplies but they would never make it to the houses before dark. "Once I did that I 'membered back to being on the highway, and hiding T-Dog under a corpse too. That was when he had that gash on his arm, just spurting out blood for all those suckers to smell. Figured if just a body could work like that, may as well go for broke with the innards." He looked down at her, her color was getting worse and he was carrying more and more of her weight as they went. They needed to get to that bag so he could stich her up. "Give you props for going forward still, but we need to hurry this up if we gonna get there tonight." He stopped and picked her up, doing his best to not jostle her wound too much.

"Thank you," she whispered to him, he was holding her in front like a bride, probably to avoid pulling too much pressure at her side. It meant she could keep an eye out while he carried her. Twilight in the forest was spooky to her, as the crickets and nocturnal animals were coming out she kept thinking she heard walkers all over the place. The bats flying overheard gave her the heebie-jeebies. The world wasn't spinning quite so much now that she wasn't spending all her energy walking. It gave her a chance to try and get her bearings. She looked out to where she knew the prison would be, but all she could see was a dim glow off in the distance. Whispering against his ear, she asked "How far have we gone?"

"'Bout 3 miles." He answered between breaths, she was light and all, but it was still a lot to be carrying a person with a crossbow and gun strapped to your back. Thankfully, they just had this one last hill to go. He readjusted her, and started picking his way up the hill. They couldn't get there soon enough; her blood was soaking through so much he could feel it against him now too. When they reached the top of the hill, he had steered well, and it was only a hundred yards or so to the provisions. "Here." He said, gently putting her back down. There was nothing and no one around, but they were still way too exposed for his liking. "We gotta get that gash cleaned up first and foremost. It's another couple of miles to the houses. We can't travel with all the walkers in the dark like this."

Beth bit her lip to keep from crying as she settled onto a fallen tree near them. He came close to her, and reaching under the tree, pulled out a brown and green duffel bag. He opened it, and gave her a bottle of water to drink. It felt cool and refreshing going down, but then the nausea hit and she gagged on it. Taking a smaller sip, she passed the bottle to Daryl. "You have some too."

"I'm alright," He told her, and pulled another bottle out of the bag. "Got four of these stashed in here. We both get one tonight and we'll ration the others tomorrow. You need to make up for blood loss though, so try'n keep as much of that down as possible." He passed her some jerky, she put it to the side for later; it wouldn't do any good for her to waste it by retching it up now. Next, he pulled out one of the white first aid kits ubiquitous in all classrooms and the like. They had one in every main area of the prison. He opened it up, balancing it carefully on a broken branch jutting out from the trunk. "I need you to hold this flashlight while I check you out." He told her. They were in true darkness now, and couldn't risk the light of a lantern; with nothing else around it would be a beacon for any walker that happened to wander by.

"Okay." She whispered back, steeling herself for what was to come. She lay on the ground and lifted her shirt up , tucking it underneath her bra to keep it out of the way. She knew it was going to be bad, but looking at it for the first time she was amazed adrenaline had brought her this far. She had a four inch gash, in a crescent shape, on her right side, from a couple inches away from her belly button, reaching back towards her back. It wasn't bleeding as heavily anymore, but oozing out slowly. A good sign sure, but she had gone with her daddy on too many house calls. She was going to need stiches if she was going to survive without infection. Looking at Daryl, she knew he knew it too.

"I've patched myself up before," he said, "but I ain't never had to do stitches." They were in the middle of the woods, on a near moonless night, with walkers all around. This sucked. He spared a thought for Hershel, and how he would handle the situation. "I can do it, but it ain't gonna be pretty." He told her.

"I don't need it to be pretty." She answered back. "I've seen my Daddy do this plenty of times. I can walk you through it." She looked around at the supplies they had. She started giving him instructions, and he followed what she said. "Grab one of them water bottles, and clean your knife, get under your fingernails, and wash off your hands as best you can. Take the peroxide and rub it over your hands too. Then rinse off and clean the wound. We gotta get it cleared out of everything to try and stop an infection." The pain seared through her when the water streamed over her, and she bit back a curse trying to stay as silent as possible. She knew if she screamed they were dead. The only real question was if she was going to make it through all of this without passing out. "Now listen and remember what I say, because I think at some point in this I'm gonna end up blacking out. Pour the peroxide over it, it will bubble and hiss but that's okay, it means it's doing its job." Now that they were in darkness but for the flashlight, her eyes had adjusted enough that she could see him shake his head, following her along. "Then take the needle and thread, heat the needle up to sterilize it with your lighter, than thread the needle and sew me up." She swallowed hard as she said it. Talking about it was bad enough; she was not thrilled that she was going to be going through it. "It's a crescent shaped wound, start the stiches in the middle and work your way out on one side, then the other, it'll give us a better chance of having everything line up right. Place them about a ¼ inch apart, pulling tight but not so tight it makes the skin pucker." She exhaled heavily trying to sound more confident than she really felt. "When it's all sewn up, pour more peroxide on it, let it dry for a couple of minutes, then put some of that anti-bacterial cream on the bandage and bandage me up."

"So that's all?" He joked to her. What else do you do in a time like this? "Do I get to have initials after my name after this?"

"Yeah," she replied back "M. D. for Major Dumbass for taking so long." She giggled a little. "Don't supposed there's anything in that bag to make me forget things for a bit?" She asked hopefully.

"'Fraid not." He answered, wishing for some himself. "Need ta be sharp when you're hunting. Take some Advil, it'll help your body, but it's not going to do a whole hell of a lot for the pain." He passed it to her and she swallowed it without comment. He grabbed the bottle of peroxide and started to pour. Her face turned red from the effort to not let out any noise. The light of the flashlight danced as she struggled to keep it still, so he grabbed it from her and held it in his mouth. Beth was earning a new level of respect from him, she whimpered a little when she exhaled but managed to keep any loud noises trapped up tight. He turned back to pick up the needle and started heating it with his lighter.

"Wait." She called out. He turned back to her and waited for her to go on. "You touched the flashlight, clean your hands again. And pass me something to bite on. I'm not going to get through this next part on my own." He shook his head, and reaching into the bag, brought out a rolled up pair of socks. "These better be clean." She told him.

"They ain't" He kidded her. In fact she was lucky, the duffel had several pairs, straight out of the package. He had already used some of them on cleaning her up. She put the socks in her mouth, and motioned that she was ready again. "I been through this part on the other side" He told her, thinking back to a hunting trip with Merle where he'd gashed a chunk outta his leg when a branch had given way. "I'm gonna go as fast as I can, and I ain't gonna stop. Don't fight it, just pass out. I'll take care of you till you wake up." She mumbled something that sounded like an affirmative, and he began.

Beth had thrived in the time at the prison. She was stronger now, but this still brought her to her figurative knees. The first stich felt like she was being stabbed, but biting down with all her might she managed to not say a thing. "It'll get better" she mumbled to herself through the sock, in a moment when she wasn't feeling the sting of the needle. By the third stitch she was crying, and by the fifth Daryl was using his body weight to help hold her down.

"I'm sorry." He whispered to her, as the eighth stitch was put in her side. "Tearing me up to hav'ta do this to ya." He said, as the ninth went in. He was bumbling at first, unused to sewing anything, let alone human skin. Now he had it down, and was moving as fast as he could while being careful and thorough. At the tenth stitch she went stiff as a board, and then collapsed. "Finally, ya tough broad" He said to her as he finished stitching her up. In total, he had placed 11 on either side, for a total of 22 stitches along the path of the wound. It wasn't pretty, and would surely leave a sizable scar; but it should be enough for her to heal. Rushing to finish it before she started coming around, he went in the first aid kit. The peroxide had pretty much been used up already, so he just mixed the last of it with the water and washed it that way. The bandages were the type that came with adhesive already on them – he rubbed the ointment onto the inside of it and attached it, smoothing it down as lightly as was possible.

Her shirt was a problem though, looking at it as he straightened her out. It was drenched in blood, as was his, and would call out to the walkers wherever they went even after it dried. Going back to the pack he took stock of what was in it, to see what they had. There was a shirt Beth could change into, but none for him "At least I have my vest" he muttered to himself, shedding himself of the bloodied shirt. There was nothing he could do about her pants, short of stripping her, and there were limits he was NOT crossing. He knelt down next to her, and fighting the feeling he was doing something wrong, cut off the bottom half of her shirt. At least it would get some of the scent away from them.

In the pack there were also two more pair of socks, a tin of jerky, and a small handgun, with a box of ammo. It wasn't a lot, but it put them in better standing than they were before. Glancing back over to Beth, he saw that her face had finally relaxed, and he hoped she had slid straight from being passed out into actual sleep. After the injury, she needed it to help her heal, let alone deal with everything that had happened in the last three hours.

Making a plan in his head, Daryl decided he would keep watch overnight, "Done plenty of all-nighters before." He muttered to himself, starting some prep to get them set up. He shifted Beth so that she was once again partially covered by the tree trunk, and rolled the bag with the supplies into a semblance of a pillow for her. He took the shirt she would wear tomorrow and layered it over her stomach to provide some protection from the air. She didn't rouse at all as he arranged and covered her, so he felt safe walking a little ways away, just far enough that he could safely throw the bundled up bloody clothes away from them. Going back, he settled down against the harsh bark of the fallen tree. The flashlight was starting to dim, so to conserve what was left of the battery he switched it off. His hearing was slowly starting to come back; he could hear Beth's soft breathing out of his bad side. The moon was a tiny sliver in the sky now, but it was enough light for him to not feel trapped in oppressive darkness. Its rays broke through some of the branches, illuminating shadows and dancing on the blond streaks of hair that peeked out through the blood. It was completely quiet around them, and Daryl almost felt at home, comforted by the sounds of the owls on their nightly hunt.

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A/N2: I will not always have author's notes at the end of a story, but I felt that this chapter merited it for a couple of reasons. The first being, I have no idea if what I had Daryl do to Beth was entirely accurate. I have basic first aid knowledge, but sewing up someone in the middle of the woods in the middle of an apocalypse is something beyond the realm of my training. Do not use this as a replacement for sound medical advice.

Also I just have to share my opinion on what happened to Judith, because I don't know where I will fit it in this story yet. When the kids went back for guns, one of the kids grabbed Judith, but couldn't carry the carrier too – they unlocked her and carried her by herself (if my four year old can unlock his brothers and carry him one of the six year olds certainly could too!) After the carrier was empty, someone was shot and fell on top of it, turned, and then woke up and walked away. It explains no body, the unlatched car seat, lots of blood and no body. There, fixed it

Until next time!

Jenna Black


	2. Chapter 2

Breakaway Ch. 2

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"Beth, it's time," Daryl whispered to her, shaking her shoulder. "Sun's bout ready to rise. We best get going before the heat gets here." It was already sticky; the heat of summer never truly went away this time of year. As the sun rose higher, it would only get worse.

"Hmm." She muttered, moaning slightly as she brought herself to sit up. She opened her eyes and looked around. The woods did not surprise her; the wound in her side quickly brought her back to reality before she even opened her eyes. What did surprise her were the five walkers put down around them. "What happened?" She asked, wondering just how soundly she had been sleeping.

"Had a couple o' visitors in the night." He shrugged, and started picking up. "Wasn't all at once, put 'em down easy." He started picking up the camp, packing everything back into the duffel. "We had a bunch more, but these were the only ones that wandered too close. Others just thought we were done and turned all ready."

"Oh," she said softly. "Um, Daryl? What happened to our clothes?" Now that she was moving around she felt the breeze on her bare stomach, and when he turned back to her, she saw his bare chest below the vest.

"Had'ta get rid of them, there was too much blood." He told her, motioning back to where she had slept. "There's a shirt there for you, and I'll just have'ta wait till we get to the houses. Should be able to scrounge something up in one of them."

"Ok." She said, and picked up the shirt. It was clean, and smelt of the woods. It was a welcome change compared to the walker scent that still clung to her with all the dried gore. Next to the shirt was the jerky from the night before. Her stomach rumbled when she saw it, hopefully as they walked she would be able to keep it down. The duffel bag was light now they had used most of its contents. By unspoken agreement, she passed Daryl the weapons and took the duffle to carry. It wouldn't be too straining, and she still had her gun tucked into her back pocket. "Which way do we go?"

"That way," he pointed to her right. "In about a mile we'll reach a stream, we can get more to drink and wash up a little. A little beyond that well reach an old soybean field, nothing to eat though" he frowned.

The thought of the stream excited her. She knew they wouldn't wash all the gore off till they were out of the woods, but just to get her face washed and rinse out some of the gunk in her hair would be wonderful. "Are you ok?" she asked him. She focused on her injury last night not much else had gotten through to her. Now looking at him though, she could see he wasn't quite walking right, and there were obvious cuts and bruises along his arms.

"I'm alright." He told her, rubbing his arm unconsciously. "Bit beat from the fights, but nothing I haven't felt before." It made him feel awkward that she would ask with all of the things that she was dealing with. "You ready to get going yet?"

"Ready." She replied. Dawn was fast approaching, and it was light enough to see, even though the sun hadn't quite broken the horizon yet. She gently stepped around the dead walkers, and followed him further into the forest. Every step bothered her, as the pain from her stomach shot down her leg and up her chest, but she welcomed it. The more physical pain she felt, the less she was able to focus on her thoughts. With each step, she would think of a family member that was lost to her.

Daddy.

Maggie.

Glenn.

Judith.

Each person brought a sharp pain to her heart, but each time her foot connected with the ground the pain from her side would jerk her back to the present.

Daryl meanwhile, was just ahead, and torturing himself with his own line of thoughts. He hadn't seen nearly enough, but was still running through the list of what he did know in his head. He knew they had lost Hershel, and he had seen Bob with blood running down his shoulder, but he didn't know how bad it was. He watched Michonne disappear into the woods after taking down the governor. He had seen Rick head into the prison with Carl, but he and Beth had left before they had made it back out. He didn't see what had happened to anyone else. All he knew was that the best bet to reunite was at that housing development; most of the others knew it was there, and chances were good they would head for it too. As they walked, he let out a hunting whistle the others knew every ten minutes or so, long as there wasn't any walkers. Right now, he could see one off to their left, but it was meandering away from them so he let it go.

Beth let out a sigh of relief when they reached the bottom of the hill. Daryl led her a few more yards, and then stopped. She could see his confusion, and nearly cried when he said, "Damn thing should be right here." He dropped down to the ground and started digging with his hands. Sure enough, after a little effort, he had uncovered a layer of thick heavy mud. "Hell." He grunted. He wanted to yell, but cognizant of their location, he bit it back. "We'll, at least we didn't go too far outta our way." He muttered, sitting on a rock nearby.

He motioned for her to give him the pack; she passed it over and then tried to sit herself. The moment she started bending she realized what a bad idea that was, and moved to where she could at least lean against a tree. "It's not your fault," she told him, "Ain't like it's rained in the past few days. Or weeks." They were in the height of summer, and save for the thunderstorms that came barreling through and went in an hour, there hadn't been a good heavy rainfall in weeks. "Can we still rest for a while? I could use a chance to get some food in me." She asked eating while walking had been too much on her.

"Good as anywhere." He replied. "You're not going anywhere else till we check that bandage again." She nodded her head, and brought her shirt up as he walked over to her.

"Do you mind? I can't really see it right without bending in a way that pulls it." He bent down beside her so his face was right level with it, and carefully felt around the edges of it. His touch was soft, but it tickled her. She giggled, so being the mature man that he was, he tickled her a little harder. "Stop that!" She told him. He looked down sheepishly.

"Ain't had too many chances to tease a girl since this whole thing started." He told her. "Save for playing with lil' ass-kicker." At that, he grew somber, and rose to stand. "Ya look good. Glue's holding fine all 'round and there's only a couple of dark spots showing through. We have the stuff to change it if we have'ta, but it should keep 'til we get to the house." He reached into the duffel and pulled out the last full water bottle. "We'll share this for now, and when we get to the house we should be able to come up with some more."

She drank her portion, and then passed it back to him. "Here, have some more jerky too." She had eaten some but her still upset stomach meant she couldn't trust herself to eat anymore. Just then, she heard the sound of groaning. Lots of groaning. It was off to her left, and when she looked to Daryl, she could see that he had heard it too. Holding up one finger to his mouth, she shook her head, knowing enough to stay quiet. He quietly picked up the pack and motioned for her to get close. Partially hidden by the trees, she could see a pack of twenty or so, slowly making their way by. Out of fright, she grabbed his hand. He squeezed tight, and stroked her hand in what he hoped was a comforting way before letting go. She looked at him, watching for a signal on if they should stay or go, when a walker stumbled right on top of them.

Daryl sprang into action, sinking the knife deep into the walkers head. The walker went down immediately, but the noise from the take down had attracted the attention of the others. You could pretend to be one when they hadn't seen you move, but once you took one down, the gig is pretty much up. "Time to go!" He yelled, and together they started running off through the woods. Only 3 miles to go.

A few minutes later and Beth knew she was going to be paying for running so hard and so fast. It wasn't like she had a choice, but if the pain in her side was any indication; she had pulled at least a couple of stitches. "Damn it." She bit out; running over the uneven ground was jarring her to her core. Still, she kept on running. To help with the pain, she tried to focus on her breathing, doing it the way Michonne had tried to teach her. They had trained together during her stops at the prison. The boys were good for teaching target practice and guns, but Michonne was the one that had taught her basic self-defense and survival. She had whined and complained whenever Michonne had sent her out to run laps around the prison yard, but now that her life was depending on her running skills, she knew she owed her a giant thank you. If they ever saw each other again. Daryl slowed down in front of her, and motioned for her to get right behind him. She fell into place and worked to breathe as quietly as possible.

"Musta been old ones." He told her, as their breathing slowed to normal. They had run almost the whole distance to the development, the only thing left was going through the farmers' fields. She could see some of the roofs in the distance. He didn't want to lead the walkers straight to the houses, and needed to know if any were still around. The silence, but for Beth's heavy breath, meant they could just cut through the field instead of going all the way around. "Here's what I want to do Beth." He turned to her. "Just over there is where we hit the fields I told you about. Beyond them are a buncha houses. I left another goodie bag in the third one in. It's blue with white shutters. We're going to act like walkers to get across this field, and head towards it. Walkers ramble though, so make sure you ain't moving in a straight line."

They stood there for a few minutes longer, until both their breathing was back to normal. It was slow going, picking their way through the weeds and bushes left behind by the end of the world. Being in the middle of the field bothered Beth; they were too exposed for her liking. Daryl let out one of his whistles again, and she waited anxiously for some sign of someone. She heard a whistle back, and got excited, looking around for where it came from.

"Don't bother," Daryl said glumly, and pointed off to the east where the sun was half up by then. A flock of birds was swooping back and forth, and as she watched, they let out another of the calls she had heard. They trudged on towards the houses. Daryl was relieved when they reached the fence that separated the houses backyard from the field. He reached the side, and with a boost from an overturned wheelbarrow, climbed over the fence. On the other side, he quickly opened up the gate and ushered Beth inside before closing it tight. For the first time since fleeing the prison, they were inside a semi secured area, and he let out a sigh of relief.

Beth looked around the back yard. There was a play set for small children, and some patio furniture bleached white from the relentless sun. A small deck off the back door held a beat up grill, and through the sliding glass door, she could see countertops and a dining room table. "Any tricks?" She asked Daryl, as she started walking for the door. He'd been known in the past to booby-trap places in the worst ways; she already had one injury, she didn't want another.

"Naw, we're good back here. Go through the front door and it's another story." He told her, walking quickly alongside her to reach the door. It wasn't even locked. She shot him a questioning glance at that. "Didn't see much point 'sidering it's glass." He shrugged, opening it up. A dank smell of rotted food and quite possible, a dead animal came out of the house. "Figured this would be enough to keep most curious people away."

"Right," she muttered, looking around the house. It was already ruthlessly hot out, but it felt good to be out of the glare of the sun. The kitchen and dining area shared space, and through a doorway, she could see a living room decorated in blues. Keeping quiet she listened for any noises that would reveal a walker around. All was quiet. "Where's the supplies?" She asked. Now that the immediate danger was over, she noticed how much her side was aching. Taking the oversized shirt off, she could see the once clean bandage was now mostly red.

"I'll get 'em." Daryl told her. "You clear off the dining room table, best place as any to stitch ya up." He made his way to the upstairs bathroom, where he had hidden his replenishment bag in the upper left side of the cabinet. This one only contained basic medical supplies, water, and some stale crackers, but it was better than nothing. He looked at himself in the mirror. The bags under his eyes were massive, both eyes were bloodshot, and he looked a fright painted in walker blood. The house still had some water stored in it, after he finished fixing up Beth again they would both get a chance to get clean. Shaking his head to try to clear some of the exhaustion, he grabbed the supplies and went back downstairs.

Beth had cleared off the table, and wiped it down with some of the cleaner she found underneath the sink. The scent of oranges was a bit strong for her, but she figured having an extra clean table wouldn't hurt if she was going to be lying on it while wounded. Moving gently, she put all the supplies Daryl would need to the left of her, and then carefully, carefully, laid down.

Half an hour later, she hoped she would never, ever, need stitches again. The lack of danger meant she had less adrenaline in her system, and every little movement sent waves of pain up and down her body. The process was brief enough that she didn't black out this time. Daryl did a good job for having no training, though she laughed at the look on his face when he first saw his handiwork after their flight through the woods. "Damn, Beth, now I gotta do you all over again?" He joked. "You'll print me up a diploma from Greene University when this is all back to normal, right?"

"Sure Daryl," she replied back, aching and hating to move. "You can have the honor of being the first graduate." She grimaced as she moved. He helped her down from the table, and only laughed at her a little when she stumbled. "Watch it," she told him, "I just got these feet yesterday." The pain must be affecting her thought process a bit. Being in such close proximity to him allowed her to see him for the first time since everything happened. He was drained, completely. "Here, I'm all set to take a watch. You go rest somewhere for a while. You need it."

"Alright," he agreed, now that the terror was past for a while, and everything pressing had been dealt with, he could feel his eyes growing heavier by the moment. "S'ony been 30 hours since my last snooze. Gimme at least four hours unless something happens."

She smiled at him. "Unless something happens I'll give ya 10." He had certainly earned it, and with the way her body was feeling, it would do them good to be holed up in the house for a day. He made his way into the other room, and she walked around the house, familiarizing herself with it in case they needed to make a fast escape. Nothing moved outside, and the way the light hit the back half of the house, she knew it was a safe bet no one could see in.

The next order of business for her was to find some clean clothes, and wash herself down. The gore on her had long dried by now, and other than grossing her out, she couldn't imagine it being effective anymore. Quietly, she made her way to the first bedroom. There were planes hung from the ceiling, and a racecar bed. "Probably not finding anything in here." She mutters, closing the door. Across the way, the next bedroom is painted pink, which gives her hope, especially when she sees the Amy Winehouse poster on the wall. The bed has jeans thrown on them, and some shirts and clothes are scattered around the floor. "Jackpot." She says, smiling; all the cloths are technically a size too large for her, but that will make them perfect for carrying her weapons too. She grabs a backpack off the floor, dumps out the old school supplies, and shoves a couple of jeans and shirts into it. "Now Daryl" she mutters, smiling at the idea of giving him something to wear from this room. "Better not risk it, even to tease."

Wandering out of the bedroom, she followed the hall down further, and entered what she guessed to be the master suite at the end of the hall. The bathroom was clean, and the toilet tank still had water in it. Peeling off her clothes as carefully as possible, she gladly discarded them all into the unusable shower. Beth grabbed a cup on the counter and used it to scoop some of the water out into the sink. The washcloths still smell of detergent and the soap reminded her of Lilies. They were her Mother's favorite flowers, and immediately brought her back to her childhood. She must still be in shock, she noted dully, as she started washing; there was no other way she could still be functioning.

The cold water feels like heaven against her overheated skin, and though the water is discolored and dirty far too quickly, she gets cleaner than she has felt in quite a while. Her hair would need to be worked on; though she had rinsed out most of the slime she could still feel it junking up her hair, but that was a problem that could wait for another time.

Getting dressed, she laughs at the shirt she inadvertently picked out. "Jesus is my homeboy." It reads, with a sun-glassed Jesus giving everyone thumbs up. She could just imagine the looks on some of her friend's faces if she had walked into school wearing this. Her faith was important to her, and she had never been one of the ones to jump on the homeboy bandwagon. There was a solemnity and seriousness about her faith that felt betrayed whenever someone dressed like this. Though, let's face it, she thinks, they would probably have something to say if they saw her now anyway, with hair still discolored from walker blood.

Going back to the dresser in the room, she opens up the top drawer to find underwear and pajamas. They were a mens medium, so other than being a little tight, they should work for Daryl. "Not like he has many choices either." She mutters going through the lower drawers. Whoever had lived here had been a geek, and most of the t-shirts were emblazoned with sayings or characters from various tv-shows. Choosing the least offensive for Daryl, she laid out a pair of dark tan carpenter pants, and a black shirt with what she vaguely remembers as a Starfleet insignia printed on it. It had been a long time since she had watched Star Trek with Shawn, but certain things just stuck with you.

She lays the clothes in the bathroom, for when it is his turn to take a shower, and wanders up the staircase onto the second floor of the house. The view out the bay window is perfect to keep an eye on the street below. The street is still deserted, and Beth expects it to stay that way. For how far they had traveled to get here she didn't think it likely another of their group would wander by. By now she guesses it to be either just before, or just after noon, the sun is shining down brightly, and the shadows of the trees are directly below them.

Leaning her head against the window she breathes deeply. She tries to calm herself, but she can feel it coming. All the events that had occurred over the past day – Has it only been a day? She wonders – All of them are crashing down on her now.

The fall of the prison.

The gunfire all around.

Daddy.

And oh, that one hurts so deep, it encompasses her to her core.

The glint of the blade as it came swooshing down.

The angle of his head as he started to fall.

The look in his eyes that split second when he realized what was coming.

In all the nightmares she had had since leaving the farm. In all the moments of near death that had come to them. All the times that God's providence had brought them so close to destruction before they rose from the ashes. None of them. None. She had never pictured her Daddy being beheaded by a madman in front of her.

She doesn't know when she started, but the fogging on the window and her shaking shoulders bring her back to the present. Her silent crying had grown into sobbing. A noise startles her and she turns; Daryl is there, looking at her with a mixture of sadness, understanding, anger and bewilderment all in one. Before she knows what she is doing she is in his arms, clinging to him, to a warm body. To life.

"Shhh, shhh, shh," He whispers, unsure of what else to do. Normally the thought of having her clinging to him would send him straight out of the room. The awkward hug after she had found out about Zach had been one of the few times they had physical contact outside of the everyday; it had left him feeling uneasy and out of his depth. That moment had nothing on this. "Its' alright." He strokes her hair like he had seen Carol do with Mika after her father had passed. She is clinging to him so tightly, and crying so desperately, that just looking at her he thinks the sorrow could break your heart.

Daryl is not a crier. From the first time, when he got the belt from his dad for being too weak because of it, Daryl had pushed it down. He forced himself to be a stone. It was hard when he was a child, but after a while, the practice just became habit. As the wails turned to moans, and then silent heaves, he felt closer to crying than he had since Merle died. At some point in time, he had moved them from the doorway over to the couch. He was sitting up, and she was half sitting half lying against him, her head tucked under his chin and her arms wrapped around his waist, balling up her hands in fistfuls of his vest. Her breathing was coming more regularly now, the tidal wave of emotion receding and with it the overwhelming need for tears. "Sorry about that." She sniffled, drawing away from him, and crossed her arms awkwardly across her chest. "I don't really know what happened." Her eyes were flitting all over the place, from the ceiling, out the window, along the crown molding and along the pattern of the carpet.

"Hey. " He said, and waited till she looked him in the eye, or at least close to it, "Ain't no problem. Ya held it together when it counted in the woods, now were safe as houses ya needed ta let loose a little. Better now?"

"Better." She affirmed, shaking her head.

"Good." He said, looking out the window. Suddenly, he tensed, and the panic that had been at bay came back, with a tightening in her chest and a bitter tang on her tongue. "Shit." He muttered, moving carefully, both to gain a better view out the window while making sure nothing outside could see in. Beth followed his footsteps, until she could look out and see for herself. Where there had been no one, there were now tens, hundreds, possibly a thousand decaying corpses wandering on the street and yards.

A herd, united from the battle at the prison, was moving though.

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A/N: This was a really hard chapter for me to write. I have gone through some things where I have experienced a shock that allowed me to deal for several hours before it all came crashing down on me, and I imagine in her situation Beth would do the same thing. In my instance, I was able to function coherently, I could recall facts and information directly related to the trauma, and could make astoundingly (to me anyway) coherent decisions. Then, when it all came crashing down, I was left functioning on the level of a five year old while my mind processed everything fully. This isn't something I would ever want to explain in a fic (exposition to that level would completely kill the setting), but it is something I was striving for with Beth's fragmented thinking. I hope it wasn't too confusing; just confusing enough to make you feel off kilter, and bring you that edge that she would be feeling.


	3. Chapter 3

Being snowed in works to your advantage :)

Breakaway

Chapter 3

Beth was tired, hungry, and bored. It was late afternoon now, judging by the slant of sun coming through the window. They had been waiting on the herd to pass for the better part of a day now. She had never seen one this big – it just kept going. She sent a silent prayer that anyone else from the prison had either gone the other direction or found a place similar to theirs to wait it out. An abandoned sleeve that used to contain crackers sat between her and Daryl. They had polished them off a couple of hours ago, and were now just stuck waiting. They were still upstairs, the living room and kitchen downstairs had too many windows for the walkers to see through. The pack was shuffling along at least; every time one of them peeked out the window, it was too see a new set trudging by. When she had first seen the herd, adrenaline rushed through her system, but as time wore on, it slowly ebbed away to leave her feeling hollow.

She judged it had been at least 15 minutes since the last time one of them had checked. Standing carefully, she made her way over to the window they were using as lookout. The gauzy curtain over it made them confident that standing back they wouldn't be seen. At the same time it was thin enough that they could see pretty much everything out there, not that Beth minded not being able to see every little detail. "Five, ten, fifteen, twenty, two." She muttered, pleased to see that it was finally, finally, starting to thin out. Walking back she settled down, "Twenty –two this time." She told Daryl.

"It's better than last time." He muttered. "Coupla' stragglers ain't no big deal, but were done in if we try to leave before that." He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "Soon as they move on we'll head next door. Gotta be something we can rustle up from one of these houses. We brought most of it back on scouting trips, but I left a little behind in most."

"Tired?" She asked him. Her body liked to shut down if there was nothing else it could do, and she was fighting to keep her eyelids open. "You take a turn, and I'll nap in an hour." She offered.

"Hell, we can both sleep at this point." He told her. She raised her eyebrows at that. "So many out there, don't matter if we get caught. Only difference being awakes gonna make is extra terror before we die."

"True enough." She told him. At that comforting thought, she figured she might as well go for broke. Rising again, biting back the pull of pain on her stomach, she carefully made her way into the bedroom and brought back blankets and pillows. It was too hot to need a blanket really, but the pillow would feel nice, and she always slept better with something over her. "Least this will pass some of the time." She passed him one of the pillows.

"Thanks." He told her, and settled in. Moments later, he was asleep.

"Show off." She muttered. Maybe it had something to do with his hunting habit, but she could never just fall asleep like that. The pillow was soft, and the blanket gave her just the right amount of security, but as weary as she was she just couldn't fall. She knew part of it, a big part, was the images that kept flashing in front of her eyes. Her mind was no longer holding them back, and the sharpness and clarity of the images was something she guessed only ever happened in extreme times. The hysteria she had felt before was no longer there, instead it was a sharp, visceral pain, lancing through her heart and radiating outward. The tears were falling steadily now, but even as the images flashed through her mind she could see the far wall of the hallway, and the sleeping form of Daryl.

Breathing deeply, she worked to settle herself. She needed to grieve, especially for her Daddy, but even for the others. This time though, she couldn't, wouldn't lose control again. Each time an image of death appeared, she consciously brought up a living memory. Daddy, pushing her on the swing set when she was a little girl. Mama, baking cookies in the oven at Christmas. Maggie dancing at the town fair. Judith's giggles, and scent snuggling into her. Vaguely, she noted the sunlight making its way across the floor.

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"Whatcha doing?" Daryl asked her, waking up. He guessed he'd been asleep two hours or more. The sun was shining bright through the west facing windows; it looked like they only had an hour or so before sunset.

"Just thinking." She said. "Daddy used to tell me all the time to replace the bad memories with good. Evil can't win if it can't take your spirit."

"Makes sense. I guess." He didn't think much on that type of thing, just did what needed to be done. She was playing with her necklace again; a nervous habit he usually ignored, but this time she had taken it off and was working it back and forth on its chain. "What's that anyways?" He asked, seeing her playing with it, he realized he couldn't think of a time she hadn't worn it.

"Mama gave it to me. It was a family tradition, she said." Beth was slowly, slowly, lowering one end or the other of the chain, keeping the heart moving back and forth in a constant pattern. "Mama bought it when she was pregnant with me, and for most of my life it was a 'special occasion' bit of jewelry." She inflected her voice at the end; it was obviously something said to her repeatedly. "Every birthday, family portrait, and holiday it was allowed out, then tucked safely away. When Maggie turned 18, she got hers. I assume that's when I was supposed to get mine. But then everything happened." She shook her head at that, and blinked back tears again. "When Mama got bit, when she knew it was over, she called me in the room and gave it to me early." Her voice changed inflection again, taking a sugary southern belle voice that Daryl guessed sounded like her mothers. "You're strong, baby girl." She said. "I don't know what's going to happen with all this, but I know you will survive. Just don't let this world change you." She laughed a little bitterly at that.

"Your Momma loved ya, but she wasn't too smart." Daryl told her.

"What?" She asked, a little affronted.

"Who tells their girl to NOT change. Hell, you're in the middle of a war. Gotta change if you wanna live, ain't nothing else to it. And even if ya weren't, you were what, 16, when ya lost her?" He asked

"A couple months shy," she answered.

"Right. Who wants their kid to stay young and dumb forever? You had to change, no other option. Say'n it the way she did just meant you'd feel bad about it when ya did." He got up from the floor, it had to be time to check again, even if they were gonna be stuck here overnight. "Now, making sure you change right, that's something ya can focus on. Growing stronger like ya have, learning the stuff ya need ta know. Changing in a way that makes ya better – that's what she shoulda said." He motioned towards the lookout window. "I'll be back in a few."

When he came back she could tell he was still agitated. "Thirty this time. Damn things are bugging me out. How were this many around the prison without us knowing it. Lucky we weren't overrun before this."

"God's good grace." Beth muttered.

"What's that?" Daryl asked sarcastically, "Ain't been a whole lotta grace, of any sort, in a while."

"It's something my Daddy used to say." She told him. "Whenever something happened that shouldn't make any sense but then worked out for the better. Same as when Carl got shot – it was horrible that it happened, but then it brought all of you to us. If you hadn't been there, we would have gone on with our lives at the farm, at least until the first herd moved through. Then we would have died." She worked to tie her hair back again, it had come loose and was driving her nuts. "God's good grace."

"That right?" He asked, and thought things over for a couple of minutes. "Yeah I can kinda see that." He told her. "My Mama died when I was 9, and Dad was a sumbitch – he got bit at the start of all this, and it served him right. Abusive bastard." He stroked his arm, unconsciously tracing one of the scars from his father. "The good times were the times he would disappear for weeks on end, off chasing whatever sure thing he had discovered that time. Meant me and Merle learned to fend for ourselves. Hunted and scavenged to keep alive before I knew how to drive, taught myself to do that when I was eight. It's kept me alive in a lotta tight places since this all went down. Kept others alive too."

"God's good grace." She whispered quietly, putting the necklace back on where it belonged.

They sat silently for a few minutes, and before long, she had drifted off to sleep. He moved over to her and covered her with the blanket by her side. There was no help for it, the situation they were in. Daryl turned over every move in his head. Truth was, he had no idea what to do anymore. No one else had made it here before them, and with the herd this size, he had to hope they were long gone in the other direction. Going back to the prison and seeing if anyone had doubled back was their first goal, and then, depending on what they found there… who knew? It would all depend on what was at the prison.

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The morning light came streaming through the window, heating her face and making Beth close her eyes even tighter. How long had she been asleep? "Are they gone yet?" She asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Mostly." He answered back. "There's been a straggler here and there, but ain't seen any in a half hour or so. Was gonna wake ya up soon if ya didn't wake up on your own."

Rising, she saw that at some point he had cleaned up and changed. He must have slept too, his face was clearer and his eyes whiter then they'd been since everything went down. "Time to go scavenging?"

"Almost." He told her, moving to sit down next to her. "Need to talk to ya first." When she looked up at him, he took a breath and continued. "The herd outside, by the end of it, I recognized some of them."

She closed her eyes and sighed. "I was afraid of that."

"No one we knew too well." He spoke plainly. "I saw a couple of the Governors' army, and two of the older Woodbury people. Steve, and that prissy older lady, Jane, Joan, something like that."

"Beverly." Beth answered, knowing exactly who he was talking about. "But you were close" she smirked.

"Thing is," he continued, ignoring her tease, "it means whatever else went down at the prison is done and over with. No one made it this way before us, and they sure weren't gonna make it through that heap of walkers. Might be someone is holed away in the bowels of the prison. Might be someone else has the idea to go back now too."

"Might." She muttered. "Wouldn't say no to a sign right about now?" She looked up to the ceiling; no answer of course, but the action made him smile. "Even if the others aren't there. Daryl, I need to go back."

He nodded; he knew it was coming. Bastard that his old father was, he had done what he could to give him a proper burial. Plus, it was their best bet to find the others at this point. "A quick stop at the house next door, and we can head out."

"Sounds good." She whispered, and followed him down the stairs. Daryl led her around to the back yard again, out the gate, and carefully over to the next house. There was a walker down the street, but it never caught scent of them. Walking inside the house, it was clean, if empty, and Daryl led them straight upstairs to the second bedroom on the left. It was an elderly couple's home, and the doily's and figurines all over the place reminded her of her grandmother. Inside the closet, Daryl pulled out a shoebox, and opened it to reveal three cans.

"Beans for both, and split a can of peaches." He told her, passing her the first can.

"Thanks." She muttered. Cold beans was one of the things she'd hated most about being on the road, but they stopped her stomach from rumbling and she knew the protein would be good for her body. The peaches were a sweet treat – nothing like the real thing, of course, but the closet had kept them cool and her sugarless diet meant they tasted like perfection. "We walking to the prison?" She asked, wondering if any of the cars in the area were usable.

"Yup." Daryl muttered, popping the last peach slice into his mouth. "Already took all the gas from here. Hoping they'll still be a ride or two at the prison." She sent up a silent prayer there would be too, she was not looking forward to walking all over the place, it was too exposed. "Beth," Daryl stated, not looking forward to what he needed to say. "When we get there, we don't know what we're going to find. I wanna do right by your Daddy if we can, but we may only be there a short while. You prepared for this?"

She swallowed, "I don't know that there is any way to be prepared for it, really." She told him. "I can tell you I've gone through every worst possibility in my head. I'm scared to go back, but I gotta know. I'm lucky in one way at least."

"How so?" He asked.

"I know my Daddy's dead. No questions. I could be wondering about him along with the others. We don't always get answers in this world; can't help but be thankful for one."

He didn't really know what to say at that, so he grunted. Bringing himself to his feet, he could feel the ache along his back from all they had been through. They couldn't keep carrying everything they way they were, it was just too much. He emptied the duffel of everything, before carefully packing it with the machine gun. Wouldn't do them much good in the woods anyways, would draw too much attention. He didn't think everything would fit, but once the gun and ammo were in he found the first aid kit and the spare clothes fit around them nicely. Something would have to be left behind when they found food, but for now, it would work. "Ready?"

"Okay." She said, taking the can and finishing off the juice. "Let's go."

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The walk to the prison was quiet, too quiet, at least to a jumpy Beth. Not a walker in sight, they all must have been enveloped into the herd. They walked silently, an arms length of space between them. A couple of times Daryl let out that whistle, but all they heard was silence. Eerie silence after all they had been through. They walked along the road this time, right on the edge, ready to jump back into the woods at the first need. There wasn't any. Yesterday she had seen smoke rising in the distance, but night had apparently been enough time for the fire to die out. The sky was empty, though from the distance they had walked she knew they had to be getting close.

A half hour later, they crested the final hill, and she had her first look at the prison. She cried out at the sight, and buried her head into Daryl's shoulder. She thought she had prepared herself for it, but it was still shocking to see – her home for the past months was nothing but stray bricks and debris. Even from the distance, she could see there wouldn't be much that was salvageable. She had known the prison would be lost, but she had hoped to retrieve some of their belongings when they went back. Instead, the entire block was ashes on the ground. One of the guard towers was gone entirely, and the other was lying on its side, fallen by one of the tank blasts. Dreading what else she would find, she started walking to where she had last seen Maggie.

"Wait up!" Daryl called to her. "Beth!" He grabbed onto her arm. "You gotta slow down. We gotta be smart about this."

A confused look from her, and a shake of her head, was all he got. "You be smart. I'm finding my sister." She was so far gone, she wasn't even paying attention to her surroundings. Thankfully, there were no walkers around, but it still pissed Daryl off.

"Damn women." He muttered, following behind her. As he walked, he looked around. There were blood trails all around, but so far no bodies. The hunter inside him figured they had all been walker meals. He could see plenty of abandoned vehicles outside the gates of the prison, when things had gone wrong as quickly as they had; few had been able to get to a vehicle. That was a good sign for them at least, sometimes the type of car you drove meant you lived or died.

One of the vehicles, he noticed now that he was closer, was rocking slightly. Coming up to it, he looked through the rear window, but it was tinted too dark to see in. Whoever was in there was fighting to get out, which meant it was most likely a walker. Going to the door, he leaned up against the window to excite whatever was in there, and sure enough, found himself face to face with one. He looked to be a man in his forties, newly turned, and judging by the fact Daryl didn't recognize him, a member of the Govenors' Army. "Serve's ya damn right." He told it, not wanting to waste the time or energy on something that was too stupid to get out of a car. "Cook, ya damn thing." He said walking away.

Beth was almost to the prison gates at this point, and no way was he going to let her go in there alone. Casting a last glance around the vehicles, he followed her.

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The smell was the first thing that hit her, waking closer to the prison. The fire may have burned itself out, but an acrid smell hung in the air, stinging her eyes and making her cough. The left guard tower was completely disintegrated, and the other had fallen on its side to her right. It looked to be the only place a person could safely hide out at this point, so she walked along it until she reached the lookout post. There was a massive blood stain on the door, long since dried now, but the door itself was locked. "Walkers can't do that" she muttered to herself, before taking the knife Daryl had given her and fighting with the lock. "Damn it." She cursed, Daryl was already rubbing off on her. Lock picking wasn't something she'd been taught yet and the fact that she couldn't figure it out was pissing her off.

"Ya know, if someone was on the other side of that door, don'tcha think they woulda opened it for ya." He said from behind her, squinting with the reflective glare of the sun on the steel door.

"You going to help me, or not Daryl?" She asked him, the smell of this place was making her sick and she just wanted to find what they needed and move on.

"Here." He said, moving next to her. At first he started shimmying the lock himself, but then realized it would be good for her to learn the trick. "Like this," he said, wrapping his hand around hers on the knife. "Ignore the lock entirely, it aint busting without breaking your knife. Some doors ain't opening no matter what you do, but cheaper old ones like these can usually be beat. Trick is sliding your knife in between the door and jamb, catching the lock like so, and with a little twist…" The lock popped and the door started coming open.

"I hate that you can do that so easily." She told him, going to open the door. He grabbed her shoulder and stopped her.

"Nuh-uh. Me first." He stated firmly. She stepped back, and he brought up the crossbow to face whatever was on the other side of the door. It creaked as it opened, and the sun shining in showed Bob laid out against the far side of the room. Easily seeing no one else was there, he swept in and bent down, immediately going to his neck to check for a pulse, knife in his other hand just in case. Bob's neck was warm against Daryl's fingers, and underneath the skin, he could feel the thunka-thunka of a pulse.

"He's been shot." Beth said, coming to his other side, lifting up the hem of his shirt. "His arm was grazed," she said clinically, seeing the bloodstain on the shirt, "but the problem is this one." She pointed to his stomach. "Help me lift his side." When they rolled him, she saw there was no exit wound. "Damnit." She whispered. "Bullet's still in there."

Daryl had no medical training, but even he knew what that meant. A groan brought his attention back to Bob. "Hey." He said to him, when he saw his eyelids fluttering open.

"Shit." Bob exclaimed, breathing heavily now that he was awake. He saw that Daryl was the one with him, and laughed, "Guess I ain't the last survivor anymore." He chuckled grimly. "Damn that hurts." He hiccupped and coughed and tried to lift his hand, but couldn't.

"Don't waste your energy." Daryl told him somberly.

"Medic, remember?" Bob told him. "Don't matter what I do at this point, it's already over. Just end it all when it's time okay?" Bob asked him.

"Yeah." Daryl said from the side. "I'll take care of it. When the time comes."

Bob barely nodded his head. "Thanks."

"Has there been anyone else?" Beth asked hopefully, "Noises, anything? Some of the others wouldn't have known how to get the door open."

"If there was anybody, they didn't make any noises to stand out from the walkers." He told her. "Passed out quick though, maybe missed someone." He coughed, and after that, spit out a glob of bloody spittle. "Shit." He whispered. His strength was quickly leaving and he was losing the ability to talk. Another cough, and then his body was wracked with them, over and over.

Daryl supported his back, trying to get him some air. They had both heard the rattle he was making too often now. "Beth, head on outta her, get some air." He told her. She didn't say anything, just squeezed his shoulder and walked out. A minute later and the room was silent, but for Daryl's soft breathing. He hated this part most.

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When he walked back outside, Beth was sitting against the fallen tower. "Sorry you lost a friend." She told him.

"Didn't." He told her. "Good guy at the end, but pulled too much shit for me to trust him any."

"Oh." She whispered. She wasn't crying, so Daryl took that as a good sign at least. Rising to her feet, she started walking towards what was left of the barracks.

"Ain't much here," He said, looking around. "What's the old Bible saying? No stone upon another? Pretty damn accurate." He told her from a couple feet away. He kicked at a piece of brick in front of him. No getting into the sections they had lived in, they'd collapsed in the fighting, and the fire had brought them down even further. Skirting along where it was safe, he followed Beth towards where they parked the cars.

"No!" She cried out suddenly, dropping to the ground. He ran up to her, looking for a body, or something to explain her reaction. She was on the ground, shaking, staring at a discolored patch of dirt a little ways away. It was obvious a body had lain there for a while, before it woke up or was eaten. Based on a couple a bones and bits nearby, he guessed the latter.

"Show me." He told her, her hand was too tightly wrapped around whatever she had found for him to see it. He grabbed her hands in his, and gently peeled them apart. The watch that Glenn had worn proudly, ever since Hershel had given it to him, was resting in her palms. He looked back at the bloody smear and fought back revulsion. "Damnit." He said, rising to stand. "Shit!" He yelled, punching the air. Glenn was a good one, and had managed to get outta so many scrapes he thought for sure he'd made it.

"He was on the bus." Beth whispered. "You were on the bus, Glenn." She was crying, the weight of the watch in her hand pinning her to the ground.

"If he made it to the bus, why the hell'd he get off?" Daryl bit out, looking around for an answer somewhere.

"Maggie." Beth whispered. "He wouldn't leave without her. She wouldn't have gotten on the bus without me." Her eyes were dull now, aware of their surroundings but shutting down to the emotion of it all. "It's my fault."

"Shut your mouth. " He told her. "You were just looking out for the kids. Maggie and Glen both made their choices same as you made yours." She was looking down at the ground. "Hey. Look at me," he waited until she did. "Just 'cuz he's here don't mean she is too." He'd already scouted and hadn't found another mess near Glenns. "We was all split up at one point, she could still be somewhere."

Beth nodded her head, but didn't really believe him. "Gotta get going." She said, taking the watch and tucking it into her pocket. "Let's check for a vehicle and then get away from here."

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Getting a vehicle was easier said than done, however. Of the vehicles that belonged to the prison group, most were missing, and the few still there were nothing but embers. "Someone stole my damn bike." Daryl cursed, looking around for Merle's old Triumph. "Rather she burned." He muttered.

"She?" Beth asked.

"Got something to say to that?" He asked her.

She just smiled and shook her head. "Some of the Governor's cars are still out there." She motioned with her hand towards the fields. "Maybe we'll get lucky."

"Sounds good." Daryl nodded, and started walking. "The green car is a last resort, got a walker in it – we can take 'm down easy enough, but the thing is gonna stink. Maybe the red." He pointed towards the Explorer a little ways away, it had bullet holes up and down the side of it, but all the tires had air and most of the windows were still intact. Not watching where he was stepping, he nearly missed the mutilated head by his boot. At least, until it started snapping at him. He edged it with his boot, and bit back a curse when he recognized it as Hershel.

"Beth! Stay Back!" He yelled, looking down at the head in front of him. He fought back bile rising in his throat, "Don't come any closer!" Thank God for small mercies, something in his voice made her stop immediately.

"What is it?" She asked, taking just a step or two.

"Stop!" He growled out at her. It was too late, though; the shift in position meant she could see everything. How had he thought they were past the worst with the pocket watch and Glenn? Beth's quiet sobs were worse than the loud crying of earlier; the snapping teeth at his feet joined together with it and made his head pound. He looked around, but the rest of the body was gone. The detached hunter inside of him guessed that being beheaded meant his body never activated as a walker, so it was just food for the others. The head on the other hand, had to have changed quickly, enough so it wasn't appealing. "Fishtanks" he muttered, thinking back to one of his conversations with Michonne.

"What?" She asked, sniffling and shaking from her spot on the ground.

"Michonne told us once. Back at Woodbury, the sicko had decapitated heads in fishtanks." He grabbed a blanket out of the car and covered the head for now. "If ya go low enough, brain stem stays intact, means this." He motioned to the ground. "Hey. Remember what ya said at the house earlier. That aint Hershel."

"I know." She said quietly, holding herself and staring at the blanket. "Still hurts." Shaking her head, she added, "We can't leave him… it... like that."

He went up to her and put his hand on her shoulder. "You don't need to see this. Wait for me in the car."

"No." She said, somewhat shakily. "No, I should be the one to do it."

"What?" He questioned her. "Hell no if you think I'm gonna make you.."

"You're not going to make me do anything." She said emphatically. "You took care of your own with Merle, and I need to take care of my own now." She was rubbing her arms, trying to get up the nerve to do what needed to be done. "He needs me to."

"No, he don't." Daryl said, shaking his head. "He's gone. That thing there wouldn't know you from Eve." He grabbed her chin and turned her head up to his. "By yourself, Hershel maybe, might've wanted ya to do it. He wasn't crazy, and didn't want to end up like this. But you ain't alone, and he'd, hell I'll, be damned if I make you go through that."

The tears were falling silently now, glinting off her cheeks like beacons in the sun. "I can't be weak anymore." She told him. "Weakness will get us both killed."

Strange how a mind works when it's been brought to its limits, Daryl thought, looking at her. "Strength's also knowing when to cut and run." He told her sternly. "Ain't nothing wrong with depending on other people. "

"Okay." She said softly. She stood and started walking away from him, going around to the other side of the car. As she walked, Daryl could hear her singing something under her breath.

Going back to the snapping head, he lifted the blanket and looked into the glassy red eyes. As he got closer the thing got excited and started biting faster and harder. Removing his knife from the holster, he heard Beth's singing grow louder, with more than a little desperation, he guessed to drown out the noise. He took one more breath to prepare himself.

"Sorry Brother."


	4. Chapter 4

Breakaway

A/N Wow, last chapter was a really tough one for me to write. (I know I said that about the chapter beforehand too, but I am not very easy on myself apparently!) I just couldn't interrupt the flow of that last chapter with a note at the end. It sucked, and unfortunately, for Beth and Daryl, while things will change, there are going to be some more sucky moments along the way. I will say there are no fake-outs; as much as I hated having to do it, in this story Glenn is dead. I just had to, no other way. Please believe me when I say I actually cried a little when writing that chapter, except for when I was writing Bob's death (I just really don't like him so he was expendable.) Again thank you for all the wonderful , encouraging and thoughtful reviews. I want to grow as a writer and sometimes I can't see where I need work unless it's pointed out to me. Have a great day! ~Jenna

Chapter 4

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It was done, Beth thought, as they drove away from the prison. It was midafternoon, and the bright sun and blue skies left her feeling mocked by the day itself. Daryl had done the right thing, and she owed him a thank you for it. Later. As it was, they buried Daddy with Lori, T-dog and the others, not that anyone would be back to visit the graves. After the burial, they had used debris from the fallen walls to spell out D+B BACK NOON on the lawn. They were both sweaty and covered in a mix of dirt and ash, and her palms were bloody and scratched from handling the rough pieces of brick. Her wound wasn't aching, other than her back she was not in any pain; now she mostly felt numb. It was a relief though, compared to the despair she had felt earlier. She had no idea how long they had been driving, it could have been 10 minutes or it could have been an hour. She hazily noticed when Daryl turned off a side road and stopped the car.

"Let's get inside." Daryl said from the driver seat. The silence from Beth was bothering him, but he recognized it as her way of grief. When he grieved, he got angry, and had been fighting it back all day – least her being quiet meant she wouldn't spark and explosion. Hell, least it meant they wouldn't get into a brawl either. Opening the door of the SUV, he scanned the area for trouble. "We're 'bout 4 miles out," He told her, even though she hadn't asked. "S'closest group of houses from the prison; some old-timer's daddy had 'em built back before the prison went up. Abandoned before everything went to hell 'cuz of it. Least that's what Rick told me when he got back from picking it." Surrounded by woods, the turn off was almost completely overgrown, only someone who knew of its existence would be able to find it.

Five blue houses sat waiting in a line, with the burnt out embers of another at the end. Figuring any was as good as the other, he walked toward the closest one. "Beth, c'mon." He called to her, still standing by the SUV's door; she nodded her head, and started following him.

`The first one still had a couple bottles of water, so at least they slacked their thirst.

The second was a complete wash – empty of anything useful and rain-damaged to boot.

In the middle, they hit pay dirt – food enough for a few days, and old hiking clothes that suited Daryl much better than the clothes he was wearing. The windows were broken, however, so after a quick change, they moved on.

"Back or forward?" Daryl asked her, trying to draw Beth out. She'd been doing her part making sure the houses were clear, but hadn't said a word unless it was a necessity. Quiet was usually what Daryl liked, but damned if silence from Beth didn't skeeve him out.

"Can't go back." Beth said glumly. She started walking toward the next house. It had some boarded up windows, whether from someone living there before or trying to survive after she couldn't tell. Either way, the overgrown vines completely covering the doors let them know whoever had done it hadn't been there in a while. She grabbed a piece and pulled, fighting back her emotions. The ivy irritated her palms, but her burning hands worked to help cauterize her heart. As a girl, she'd been entranced by the story of Mary Lennox and "The Secret Garden"; she'd even convinced her mother to grow Ivy on the garden wall. It had been a big mistake – it had quickly overtaken the area they'd meant for it, and they had spent hours tearing it down. Grabbing more ivy in her hands brought her back to that day, the vines so small and insignificant on their own, but entwined, so strong and unyielding.

Daryl stood behind her. He'd planned to help with removing the Ivy, had even pulled out his long knife to make the job easier; but the way she was pulling, he knew he'd be better off watching out for her. A few minutes later and the door been cleared, but she was still grabbing any tendrils she could reach. Desperation and anger fueling her, she kept pulling them down with all her might. He kept an eye down the street, half hoping for a fight. The quiet street irrationally disappointed him. She was slowing down, he could see her tugs growing smaller and smaller. Leaving her to finish it, he walked around the porch to the nearest open window, and gazed in. He tapped on the glass and waited a moment before leaning in. Hungry red eyes met his, and fingers with nails worn away scratched at the window. "Shit." He said, jumping back out of reflex. The window held, so he moved up closer and pulled out his flashlight to shine into the darkened room. Other than the walker still salivating at the window, it looked clear. "Done yet?" He called to Beth.

"Yeah." She said, breathing heavily. "Needed that." She swiped a piece of hair from her face and grimaced when the actions pulled something the wrong way.

"Got a walker in there." He told her, pointing through the window and walking back towards her. "Don't know 'bout the rest of the house".

"Good." She told him, before she grabbed the door and opened it.

"What the – "He said, and picked up his pace to get back to her in time. He shouldn't have bothered. Beth had stepped down off the porch, and was luring the thing out. Within moments, it had taken the bait and was slowly lumbering out. An older man in his forties, Daryl guessed, with a massive beer gut but little muscle tone; if she wanted a piece, he would let her have it. Staying close to jump in if needed, he watched the fight.

"Come here." Beth called out to the walker, getting into what he guessed was supposed to be a fighting stance.

When it first came towards her, she pushed it away, clumsily. It stumbled though, and she realized her mistake. The next time it came at her she kicked out its right knee; the thing was so far decayed the bottom half of his leg disconnected, and its kneecap went flying. He fell to the ground and she kicked his side a couple of times, her boots squelching slightly as it connected. Finally, she smashed its head in. "Not bad." He told her. "Gotta work with your stance though, and shouldn't of pushed it with your hands, it's too easy to lose control of the fight that way. Like what ya did when ya took out the knee though."

"Thanks." She told him, smiling a little. A noise behind her drew her attention back to the house. He'd been wrong, and another walker was slowly coming out. Larger than the other one, it looked like it stood 6'4 in life, though it was inches shorter now with its stooped walk. Heavily muscled, it was struggling to move, its leg twisted away at an odd angle, and it was walking on its ankle. Partially eaten, its stomach and most of the innards were gone or trailing to the floor. "Gross."

"Want me to take this one?" Daryl asked, ready to jump in if needed.

"Only if I'm about to get bit." She told him, watching it make its way towards her. She was more direct with this one, going straight for the kill with her knife jabbed up under the jaw. It was a clean kill, but as it went down, Beth did not wait to remove the knife; pulling it our as it fell blacked goo came out and splattered her "Yuck" She yelled, swiping at the muck. "Damnit!"

Daryl just laughed at her.

"Not funny." She told him, with a grimace on her face.

"Hell yes it is." He told her, walking into the house.

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"We're running out of daylight." He told her as they made their way to the last house. "Can't be too picky goldilocks"

"You can go back and sleep in that nasty house if you want to; I'm holding out for this one." She said, pointing to the last house in the line. Practically skipping up to the window, she knocked on it and waited a few minutes to see if any walkers stirred.

"Killing walkers is good for ya." He told her, please to see her mood had improved.

"Michonne said fighting can give you a high sometimes." She shrugged "I thought she was crazy, but I'm starting to get it now." She knocked at the window again.

"Never put words to it before, but know the feeling." He grinned. "S'good." Seeing her come out of her shell shock was helping his nerves too. He took out his flashlight and walked up to the door. The sun was just hitting the horizon, and even though they could see fine outside, the inside of the house would be dark.

Beth fell in behind him, keeping close. The house was eerie and silent. Going in through the living room, the house looked and smelt as if it was undisturbed. Further in, they worked quickly to clear and search the house. Nothing too surprising, but Beth was very happy to find several gallons of water in the laundry room, having that much meant she could justify really cleaning her hair. "See? It's good we stopped at this one." She said cheerfully, it felt good to be right.

It was dark by the time they finished setting up camp for the night, a quick tasteless dinner, a scrub with the lukewarm water, and then Beth went to brush out her now clean, damp hair. Finding a brush in the bathroom, she went to work unknotting it all. Eyes closed as she did it, memories of times spent with Mama brushing her hair before bedtime flittered by; memories of times with Maggie at the prison, taking turns brushing out their near matted locks brought tears to her eyes. The brush caught on a knot, and before she realized what she was doing, she had thrown the brush across the room; it hit the far wall and shattered the mirror across the way.

"What the hell?" Daryl said, glass crunching as he entered the room. He bent down and picked up the hairbrush.

"Sorry." She replied sulkily. "Got a knot and got mad." Flexing her arm a little, she explained a bit more. "All the slimes out, but I haven't been able to brush it in days, it means it's worse than normal" She fluttered her hand a little and let it fall to the floor.

"Don't do nothing halfway, do ya?" He asked her, small bits of mirror dancing in the beam of flashlight. When it shattered, glass had scattered on the tile floor all around the room. "C'mon outta there before ya cut yourself." He walked away. Beth didn't want to follow, but couldn't disagree; and he had the only brush now.

"Can I have the brush back?" She asked him, standing by the kitchen chairs.

"No." He told her, walking up behind her. "You tell anyone what I'm 'bout to say and I'll cut your tongue out, hear?"

"Okay." She replied, a little confused.

"Sit down." He waited until she did and then walked up behind her. "When I was 14 it was just me and my Pop. Merle was off in Juvie again, and Pop was a mean drunk. He was gone more often than home and I liked it that way. My Nana though, my Pop's Ma, had a stroke and ended up living with us for a coupla weeks before she died. No one else was 'round so I was the one doing the job of taking care of her. Not bad mostly, she couldn't talk and pretty much just sat in a chair looking out the window, but it meant I spent hours brushing hair – it was the only thing that calmed her down." He'd moved all her hair to one side, and pulled out one section at a time. "What is it with you girls and long hair anyways?"

"Dunno." She told him, flinching when he hit a big knot. "What is it with guys and long hair?" She countered, looking at his mess.

"Fair 'nough." He answered. "Mines just 'cuz it's easier than cutting it all the time. Never been good at cutting my own" One section done, he laid it over her other shoulder and moved onto the next section.

"That's partially it with me too." She told him. "Had long hair as a kid, but cut it short when I was 14; I was growing it out when this happened and didn't really think about it again. It's always been easier to just tie it back." She hissed when he pulled another mass of knots.

"Damn girl. When Nana came to live with us her hair hadn't been brushed in weeks and it was better than this." He said, working with his fingers to loosen a knot that could very easily pass for a birds nest. "Least its back to its normal color, dried blood doesn't suit ya." He tugged her hair a little in play.

"I cut Daddy's hair a couple of times before he decided to grow it long; I can trim yours in the morning." She offered hesitantly, "If you want."

"S'good for now." He answered. He didn't say anything else, and Beth really didn't know what to say, so she just sat there as he carefully finished up her hair. "Done." He told her a couple of minutes later, handing her the brush to finish styling it and going into the other room.

She shook her head and breathed a sigh of relief when her hair moved naturally without pulling her scalp anywhere. Still a bit damp from the washing, she grabbed the band that had been holding it up and quickly braided it. "Thank you." She said when she entered the living room a few minutes later.

"For what?" He teased her. "I didn't do nothin." He beat the pillow under his head. "Go on and choose a bedroom." He told her. "Couch'll make a good lookout spot for me. We're gonna head out in the morning, looking for trails."

"Okay." She told him, and walked away.

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The morning dawned bright and clear, though oppressively humid. Beth found Daryl still sleeping, and after a moment's contemplation, decided to leave him to it. Looking out the window, the dew on the plants and ground sparkled like diamonds, and Beth smiled at the temporary beauty. There were some roses blooming across the yard, and the sight filled her with warmth – Daddy had always given her roses for her birthday, and she could almost hear him saying, "Here, Bethy, these are for you." Appreciating the beauty before her, she said a silent thank you for the fresh start to the day. Recognizing the silent marching of the sun, she went to wake up Daryl.

Probably, she should have called his name. Possible, she should have thrown something at him. Most definitely, she thought after the fact, she should not have touched him. "Ow." She said from the ground. One moment she had been lightly shaking his shoulder, the next, she was on the floor, his knees on either side of her and his hand around her neck. Breathing heavily above her, she could see the moment his eyes widened in recognition.

"Sorry, "He said climbing off of her. "Not so good at being woken up."

"That's an understatement," she said from the floor, grabbing his hand and pulling herself up. "Just figured it was time to get going."

"Not wrong at that." He told her. "You was right to wake me, just might wanna do it from a distance next time." He told her, self-consciously brushing down his hair.

"How do you want to work it today?" She asked him, knowing they were going back to the prison but not knowing where they were heading from there.

"Prison first." He said, taking a drink of water, "Check for the others quick, then walk the road and edge of the grounds. Need to look for some sign of people." Biting into a piece of jerky, he continued. "No one made it here, or to the other houses. After that, there's nothing our group would head to other than the nearest town. That's 'bout 10 miles from here; no one would'a been able to make it there on foot the first day, means there could be trails in the woods somewhere."

"What should I do?" She asked, knowing her limited knowledge of tracking would be useless for seeingg which boot prints were important or which broken twigs meant something.

"Grounds were overrun, not gonna be able to find usable prints; too many in one area. We need to look for signs of life, thrown out water bottles, food wrappers, and crap like that." He told her. "Just as likely to see that stuff as me."

"What about fuel?" She asked, knowing the Explorer was fast approaching E.

"Gonna have to move out further." He told her, "emptied out all the cars 'round here. Gonna get pushed out to town or further just for fuel."

She bit her lip at that, knowing that the further out they went, the less likely they were to find anyone. Blinking back the tears in her eyes, she shook her head, "Let's go then."

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The trip back was quiet, and Beth kept her eyes peeled to the road longing for any signs of life, but only saw trees and bushes. The prison itself was as desolate as the day before. They dawdled for an hour past noon, wandering over the grounds and using the excuse of looking for trails as a reason to put off leaving. The tracks that covered the ground from the battle were imprinted one on top of the other; nothing stood out as something they could track. As they drove away Beth fought back the feeling she would never see her sister again.

"We'll find 'em" Daryl said from the driver's seat, guessing where her mind was.

"Do you think anyone else will come back?" She asked him, looking for a reason to have hope.

"It's a long shot." He admitted, somewhat unwillingly. "Depending on what direction they went, they'd be blocked off by the herd that went by us. We were damn lucky to get to those houses; if they had to travel further for safety, it may be too much to be able to come back." He paused for a moment, "If they don't got a car, there's not much 'round for them to hide out in; and if they do, it's the drive back and forth that'll get them same as us 'ventually."

She nodded her head at that. "We can't do this for long, can we?"

"No." He told her, shaking his head. "Week going back and forth, after that, hit the surrounding towns, leaving signs as we go too. Just gotta take a chance that someone'll come across us. Or that we meet up with one of them" He hit the steering wheel angrily. "Damn stupid of us not to have had a plan."

"No one knew what was going to happen." She told him, trying to make him feel better

"I shoulda," he said bitterly. "Got run off from the farm didn't we? Lucky as shit we found each other after that, and only 'cause of the highway and Sophia. Mix of strangers from different places at a prison and none of us thought to have a backup. Damn idiots, all of us." He ran his hands through his head roughly. "Shoulda known it wouldn't last, nothin' does."

"Maybe." She agreed; certainly, the last few years had proven that true. "We can't really blame any one person though, except the Governor. It wasn't any of our faults. In the months we lived there, losing the prison never crossed my mind; I always figured we would manage whatever came our way. Even when that big herd hit us a couple months back and the fence nearly gave out. It was one of the only times I worked the line, and I hated it; but after a couple hours they were all dead on the ground and we were back to normal. I just never thought a person would destroy us."

"More than fools, all of us." He told her, swerving around a burnt out car in the road. Beth's life may have been roses growing up, but he'd seen just how depraved a person could be, even before the end of the world had stripped many of their inhibitions.

Beth looked out the window, and nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw a collection of junk off the road. "Wait, Daryl, go back!"

He put the SUV in reverse and backed up a ways. Examining the ground, there was a couple of wasted guns and some empty water bottles. She stayed back out of the way, as Daryl circled around the campsite, examining it from every angle. "Good eyes." He told her, catching it from the road couldn't have been easy. "This is fresh. Can't tell if it's one of ours or theirs though. The trail leads off into the woods there," he said, pointing to a section a wood a couple of feet from them. "Must've got run off the road at some point. " He looked to the sky and judged the position of the sun in the sky; they still had several hours before they needed to worry about sunset. "Wanna go for a hike?"

"Lead the way." She told him, careful to follow in step behind him.

The hike was slow going; Daryl moved deliberately and carefully, looking for every broken twig and partial footprint. After about an hour, he came to a halt, and carefully stepped back around Beth, walking back a ways. "S'nothin." He called to her. "Trail just stops." Spinning around, he let out another curse. "Where the hell they'd go?" There wasn't anything around, no water or pavement or anything else to disguise movement. Traveling back a little further, he saw a patch of discolored ground a dozen feet away, and a little ways further, a rambling path crossed theirs. He dipped his index finger into the ground, smelled it, and wiped it on his pants. Dried Blood. Looking over the amount, he noted dully that whoever had gone this way hadn't made it very far. Unfortunately for him, there was no body or belongings to guess at who it had been. "Well so much for this one." He told her, walking back the way they came.

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An hour and a half later, after being detoured around several roadblocks, they had finally made their way into town. The street was deserted; there was nothing but abandoned vehicles and debris blowing in the breeze. "Whats ya favorite color?" He asked her.

"Green." She told him, wondering why he asked. He answered her unspoken question when he pulled into the driveway of the first green house they came across.

"S'good a place as any." He told her, shutting off the engine. A storm was coming through, he could tell by the dark clouds growing on the horizon. It was making his hair stand on end. Hopefully, they could be in a house before the storm hit. Walking up the drive to the front of the house, they knocked; when nothing stirred, they went in through the unlocked door. "Gotta love it when they make it easy" he said, twisting the handle with ease. It was dim inside; the curtains drawn for privacy meant little light filtered through. Daryl switched on the flashlight; it would be better to use it than risk a walker passing by outside seeing something though the window.

"Storms moving quickly." Beth said, still standing in the doorway. Though they would normally have several hours of daylight left, it was dark as twilight, and fat droplets were starting to leave half dollar sized marks on the pavement. A small flash of light, and thunder rumbled miles away. Her skin tingled with the electricity in the air; it didn't matter what they found, baring being overrun with walkers they were staying here for the night. Looking above them, she could see the dark clouds had advanced rapidly, or formed from the air above them; the sky was undulating with energy. Down the road, she saw a walker ambling along; she backed away slowly, closed and locked the door.

"Downstairs' clear" Daryl told her, coming back in from the kitchen. "Stairs are on the other side of the house." He told her, shining the beam of the flashlight across the room. They moved quietly, flashes of lighting helped to illuminate their way.

Beth was nervous. For one thing, the thunder put her on edge; once it burst she would feel better, but the eerie calm before the storm had bothered her even before the dead started walking. For another, the house reeked. Not in a spoiled food kind of way, but in a 'there's a walker waiting to jump out and kill us' kind of way. She knew just because it hadn't come out yet, didn't mean it wasn't there. Following Daryl down the hallway, she fought back nausea as the smell grew stronger and stronger. The lighting was coming on quickly now, bright enough and often enough so that they hardly needed the flashlight. Turning the corner to finish the climb, Beth took a quick breath and covered her mouth at the sight that greeted her.

They had found the source of the smell.

Strung up from separate ropes, two small, formerly blonde females were struggling, reaching with their hands to do whatever they could to get to the fresh meat. "Damn morons." Daryl said, looking at the scene in front of him. "If you're gonna opt out, least do it in a way where ya don't come back." He shook his head and walked up to the closer one. He grabbed a foot and grimaced when it came off in his hand. Throwing it down the stairs past Beth, he reached higher on the moving body and gave it a big pull. It stayed where it was, twisting crazily and near screaming with rage to get at him. He moved on to the other, who was smaller, but strangely less decayed; its foot stayed on when he tugged, and it didn't go anywhere.

"What are you doing?" Beth asked, thoroughly grossed out.

"Checking ta make sure they'll stay up there." He told her. "Good surprise for anyone that comes knocking."

"That's disgusting," she told him. "At least put them down so we won't have to worry about them."

"That's why I tugged on 'em" He answered back. "Not going anyway till they rot a little more." He pushed the closest one to the side and stepped around it as it swayed.

"Still." She told him, crossing her arms. "It's not right to leave them this way. Please."

He stood there for a minute. "Arrow for an answer." He said somberly, flashing back to a conversation a year and a half and a lifetime ago. "Why's it bother you so much?"

She thought for a moment, and gathered her thoughts. Lighting streaked past them and the peal of thunder caused her to jump a little. "It could have happened to me." She said finally, softly. She took a breath and continued. "I wasn't in a good place before this all happened, and then losing Mama and Shawn…" she shook her head. "Only thing that got me past it was Daddy and Maggie. I came close to losing it again when you were at the farm, though Andrea helped me more than she ever realized." A pause again, staring at the grotesque show before her. "I don't know that I ever would have done it hanging, but I could easily have gone another way that would have had the same result. Knowing what I know now, I would hope someone wouldn't leave me like that." She shrugged and crossed her arms. "Besides, I'm tired and those things are going to make noise all night, and I want to sleep at some point."

"Fair enough." He told her, and shot the first one before bringing the crossbow back down.

"What about the other?" She asked him, bothered by the groans and moans still coming out of it.

"Need to earn another arrow." He told her.

"You haven't asked me a question yet." She retorted back.

He thought for a minute, and a flash of lighting temporarily blinded him with its closeness, the thunder was so loud it rattled the windows and he felt the vibrations in his feet. "Do I need to worry about you deciding to opt out again?" He asked hesitantly, not wanting to, but needing to know the answer.

"No," she told him, shaking her head. "I'm past that point now; even with everything that's happened."

"Ya sure?" He asked her, thinking about how bad things were, and how much worse they could get.

"I've seen that things, no matter how bad, can always get better." She put a piece of hair back behind her ear, and looked out the window; thick ribbons of rain were making their way down the panes. "I still have faith that this is all going to work out in the end, somehow." She looked down at her feet, waiting for him to disagree with her.

He paused to think about what she had said, "Might need to lend me some of that faith sometime." He told her, raising the crossbow and putting the walker in its sights.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: After getting a few pages into this, I realized that I really needed to change the rating. So please note that this is now rated M, which hopefully won't affect anyone since the source material is already rated that high. Also, to be responsible, there is a **TRIGGER **warning in this – we are going into some deep dark stuff, and anyone that is severely affected by abuse should enter this chapter with caution. I will leave a recap of this chapter in the next for those that wish to skip it.

Chapter 5

The good thing about the thunderstorm was that it meant there was a much higher chance of them finding water. The bad thing about the thunderstorm was that it meant no one slept well last night. Bleary-eyed and fighting back a headache Beth woke up feeling sick to her stomach, though the smell in the house probably didn't help matters. Looking out the window, she smiled; it was still raining lightly. A rain that lasted all night signaled a change in the season to the farmer's daughter. They still had a lot of summer to go, but hopefully the unrelenting heat and humidity would back off soon. They were on the second floor of the house, so she felt safe opening the window; the rain-scented breeze helped settle her stomach, and clear out some of the stench that permeated the air.

She stepped out of her room and looked in across the way; Daryl was awake, just staring out the window. "Mornin'" He told her, keeping his eyes fixed in the distance for a sign of danger.

"Sleep ok?" She asked him, stretching and flexing her muscles, they were still sore from everything they'd been through the past few days.

"Good as ever." He told her. "Storms don't bother me much, but the coupla' walkers that wandered by kept my hackles raised."

"You should have let me take a turn." She told him, "Don't always expect you to watch out for me."

"Don't worry; I'll be making you do your fair share. Soon as we get ya trained on the bow." He lifted his crossbow an inch or so before putting it back down.

"Really?" She asked him, a little excited. No one got to touch Daryl Dixons crossbow. No one. They had another bow at the prison, but the only ones who trained with it were the ones who went out on runs and would have an occasion to use it. She had never gotten a chance.

"Not so many weapons available now." He shrugged. "Gotta make sure ya can use any ya get."

"Alright." She told him, smiling a bit too much. "I didn't do much foraging last night, ran out of time and energy. I'm gonna go down to the kitchens and see what I can find." She started to make her way to the door. "You hungry?" She asked.

"Yeah, I' have a coupla' eggs and home fries." He said sarcastically

"Order of cold beans, coming up." She called, turning and walking away. She stepped carefully around the bodies of the dead walkers. They were still hanging, swaying slightly from when she touched them briefly; they gave her the complete heebie-jeebies. Entering the kitchen, she frowned, something was off but she couldn't quite place it. Nothing had been moved, and she was certain no one had made it past Daryl on watch, but something about it wasn't quite right. Searching the cabinets, it clicked into place when she found a bounty of tuna cans, but needed to go into their supplies to open them. There were no knives in the kitchen. A butcher block sat on the counter, but the only thing in it was the sharpening rod. Rifling through the junk drawer she couldn't even find a pair of scissors, in there or in the converted office. There was something very weird about this house.

Dismissing her unease for the moment, she grabbed a couple of cans and made her way to the stairs. Since the months they had spent going from house to house, she had developed the habit of making up stories for the pictures on display. She was past the point of assigning them names, but she liked to connect with where she was, and it filled the time. This life was dull dreary days punctuated with moments of blinding terror. It had been a game she played with Carl, and she'd actually come to miss it when they had lived in the prison; at least until all the others had come. This stairwell was a treasure trove, old black and whites of babies in frilly dresses gave way to faded wedding photographs from the 70's, and finally, a collection of gawky school pictures. She couldn't help but laugh at one of a little girl with multicolor braces and a choker necklace meant to look like a tattoo.

"Brown hair." She muttered, looking at all the photos now that she had noticed it. It was obvious all of the pictures had been of the same family over time, and every single one of them, down to the 6 month old infant at the top of the stairs, had dark brown or black hair. There wasn't a blonde head in the bunch. Going to the corpses, she careful moved their hair to the side, looking for dark roots, or any spark of familiarity to the people in the photos. There was nothing. This was not their house. She shook her head, this house was making every one of her 'wrong' radars go off. Checking for her knife was a nervous habit now, and feeling the weight of it in her hand reassured her only a little as she made her way back to Daryl.

"What's wrong?" He asked her, reading her tense body language when she walked into the room.

"I'm not sure." She told him. "Something about this place isn't right. The girls don't match any of the pictures downstairs. This wasn't there house."

"Hiding out and got sick of it all?" He suggested. "Decided leavin' was better than starving?"

"But that's what's odd about it." She said, shaking her head. "The house hasn't been breached, there's no other walkers so they weren't trapped, and there is a ton of food in the kitchen; they would have had to fight to get into it, but that was another thing."

"What?" He asked.

"There was nothing sharp downstairs. Had to go into our pack to get the cans open. All the knives were gone, and not just the big kitchen ones that would make a weapon – the little ones too. Even the scissors, and letter openers in the office." She shook her head at that "Not going to be sad to leave this house "

He frowned in thought. His hackle's had been raised last night with the way the walkers bodies were decayed differently, but there hadn't been any help for the fact they needed a place to stay. Adding in what Beth noticed made him think there was a damn good, or bad reason for it. Standing and going out to the girls, he moved so he was in between both of them, and grabbed their hands. Turning them over he looked beyond the decay to see them in life. Both had cigarette burns on their hands and arms, and the older of the two had rope burns around her wrists, and ankles too, following her body.

"What are you doing?" Beth asked,

"Lookin'" he told her, not wanted to let her know what he had found until he knew everything. The hunter in him was reading signs on their body he wished he didn't know. Discolored patches of skin meant bruising, it was all over their visible arms and legs; he lifted up the shirt of the older girl and found it on her stomach too. Moving to the younger one, he pushed her shirt off her collarbone, and could match his hand to the print, though it showed behind his hand like a shadow even touching the cold skin. Someone had done this to the girls, and that someone had been big.

"Oh God," Beth said, seeing his hand and the bruise on her. She had come up behind him, and had connected some of the dots watching him. "Someone did this to them?" She asked, sickened. In daylight, she guessed the older girl to be 15 or so, and the younger couldn't have been more then 12.

"Worse than that." He told her, noticing the very conspicuous lack of scars. "Weren't always like this, skins got no scars. Means they were surviving fine before they ran into the bastard." He carefully moved the shirt and skirt on the older, looking for any sign of a bite mark. "This one's clean, no walker got her." He looked at the younger girl, and a wave of pity hit him. There were indents under where she hung. Looking around the landing, he saw a black stool that looked like it had fallen down the stairs. He grabbed it and brought it over. The legs matched to the spots on the carpet. With the stool in place, her toes just scraped the seat of it. "Reason she's fresher is they kept her alive longer. Must've had their fun, then left her like that."

"Fun?" She asked voice squeaking a little. "Like, sex?"

"S'not sex if you're not willing." He told her. "Hope to hell not." He shook his head "Not gonna violate her more ta see. Won't change nothing."

"Think it was the Governor?" She asked.

"Maybe," He said, surveying the girls again. "Wouldn't put it by the sick bastard, but it's not really his style. Threatened but didn't hurt ya sister, when he had more'n reason to do it to her; least compared to these two. Andrea, he left to die, but that was personal; everyone else he just killed." He kicked the chair again. "Girls were here for a while, some of the marks had started to heal, and it's the only reason whoever did this woulda moved all the knives. Governor didn't have that kinda time. Not with raisin' another army. Whoever did this stayed close, at least for a couple weeks with 'em. Whoever hung her up did it at least a week after the other had changed, left her ta hang or get bit by sis."

At that Beth lost it, all to easily seeing the blond hair changed to brown and it being her and Maggie in that situation. Retching what little she'd eaten, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and grimaced at the foul taste in her mouth. "Sorry." she said shakily

"Don't be," He told her, "close to doing it myself." He grabbed the knife out of his pants, and carefully cut the rope of the older girl. She settled down to the floor, and he reached over and did the same to the younger.

"What should we do with them?" She asked. "Seems wrong to just leave them here after all they've been through."

"Don't have time or energy to bury them. " He told her regretfully, "Could burn the house." He was unconsciously fingering the lighter in his pocket as he suggested it. "Means we can't be in the area for a while, whole area will light up like a beacon for the walkers."

"Seems worth it to me." She said, looking at the girls. When the young had fallen, she'd landed on her sister, and now looked like she'd been resting there all along. "Just doesn't seem right to leave them here."

Agreeing with her, they worked quickly to bring their packs out to the car. Daryl waited until Beth had moved away to get the bolts back, and then emptied the lighter fluid she had found all around the first floor of the house. A walker was just starting to make its way to them when they started the fire. Daryl took it down without flinching. They stayed for a few minutes longer, making sure it caught and then watching the house burn. By that point, Daryl could see at least a couple dozen walkers coming out of a side street, drawn by the roar of the fire and the smoke in the sky. "Time to go." He whispered to Beth, lightly tapping her shoulder and pointing in the direction of the walkers.

"Hope the bastard that did this is in that mess." She said, walking to the car.

Daryl silently agreed.

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It was a long drive back to the prison, and by the time they reached the yard, they were both discouraged. The strong storm, for all the good it had done for the water situation, had washed away all the tracks, and most of the debris along the roadways. Now they only way they would reconnect would be if they found someone at the prison, or stumbled across them by sheer luck. When they pulled up to the prison gate, there was still at least an hour before noon. "Feel like learning to shoot?" Daryl asked her.

"Yes, please!" She said, her excitement had been simmering about it ever since he'd first told her about it. They parked the SUV in the far field. Close enough they could see if someone came, but far enough away to keep back the mental images of what they'd lost. Daryl walked over to one of the trees on the edge of the forest, and cut a rough bull's-eye into the bark with his knife. He walked back to her and held the crossbow up.

"Shooting a bow is a hell of a lot different than shooting a gun." He caressed the center portion as he spoke. "For one thing, they don't shoot straight like a gun. Close range, you'll manage ok, but long range, ya gotta learn to shoot high and plan for the arc." He pointed to the sights at the end. These'll help ya judge, but some of it comes down to practice and experience. Wind effects bullets if they hav'ta travel far, but once a bolt fly's it starts following it. Won't get much practice with that today, calm now that the storms blown through, but this'll be good to give ya the basics."

He brought the crossbow up, and had her hold it. "Hold it here." He said, adjusting her handhold. "Never hold it there, if ya shoot it, the bolt'll tear through your fingers."

"Ouch." She said, just thinking about it.

"Ouch? Try losing some fingers. Ouch." He said shaking his head. He brought the bow up to the proper position for aiming, and made sure she was holding it right. "Alright, shoot."

The bow was heavy in her hand, and now that the moment was at hand, she was working hard to hold it steady. Eyeing the tree through the sights, she took a deep breath and shot it. "Where'd it go?" She asked, when she dropped the bow after its release she lost track.

"In the woods" He said, smirking. "For one thing, ya don't breath when you release, ya hold it. Breathin' moves the bow up and down. For another, ya gotta keep position; ya flinched when you pulled the trigger and pulled to the right." He brought another bolt out of the holder. He passed it to her so she could feel the weight of it in her hand.

"Heavier than I expected." She told him.

"S'better that way, means it has more killin' power. Need to cause damage going in or it still won't take the walkers down." He showed her where to place the bolt and how to load the crossbow.

"How do you do this?" She asked him, she had struggled for a while and still not been able to get the thing fully tensed.

"Takes time, and gotta grow those muscles of yours." He told her, taking the bow from her and cocking it properly. "Watch your stance and breathing this time."

She nodded her head, and did better that time. The arrow at least glanced off the tree before falling. She let off five shots that were even more disappointing before they were low on arrows. "Practice" she muttered darkly, as they walked through the woods getting the arrows.

"Again"

"Again."

"Almost"

"You were closer last time, what'd ya do different?"

"Damnit Beth, you're supposed to hit THAT tree."

"That's it!" She snapped, frustrated after so many shots seemed to do the same thing. "No wonder no one else wanted to learn this damn thing." She bit out, frustrated. It had to be after noon now, and the fact that no one else was there was feeding into her bad mood.

"S'not the bow." Daryl snapped back "It's you, ya just not treatin' it right."

"If I'm not doing it right, it's because you haven't taught me." She retorted back, wiping the sweat off her forehead. It was sunny and hot, and she was past the point of being nice. "And what are you doing, just standing there now?" She goaded him.

"It's a damn good thing you're the one holding that bow." He told her, kicking a rock on the ground. He looked away for a moment, then turned and walked up to her till he could feel the heat radiating off her.

"What are you doing?" She asked, thrown by the sudden close contact.

"Doing something." He told her, grabbing onto her. He spun her around, and meticulously adjusted her stance and grip, before stepping up close enough that he could feel from her shoulders to her thighs. Sliding his hands down her arms, he cradled her hands and brought the bow up. Leaning down so his head was level with hers, he ignored the hair tickling his face to take aim. "Member, no breathin'" He whispered right by her ear.

"Okay." She nodded erratically; it was throwing her to have someone so close.

"Watch the angle." He warned her, lifting her arms a little before sliding them back up to her shoulders, "And your stance." He pulled her shoulders back a little. "Okay."

She did everything he said, and then pulled the trigger. "Ha!" She shouted happily. It wasn't in the middle, but the bolt had landed in the smaller circle at least – it would take out a walker from this distance. She spun around and hugged him happily, before coming to herself and realizing just how close she was standing with him. "Thank you." She said smiling.

"Welcome." He said, embarrassed by the display of affection. "Now do it without me." He told her.

The next few bolts made the mark too, before the fifth one hit bull's-eye.

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After that, they had packed up, chosen a new route, and headed out from the prison. This route was circuitous too, but that suited Beth fine, more likely to see a sign of someone eventually. They hadn't spoken much after target practice, Beth was too pleased with her progress and Daryl was too wrapped up in driving. "When can we do that again?" She asked him, it made her feel good, working to be more useful.

"Same time tomorrow, most likely." He told her, "least for the next few days."

She darkened a little at that, the thought of leaving the area like a storm cloud on the horizon. But every day they had been back, and there still hadn't been a hint of anyone anywhere. "I know some of them are out there. I feel it." She told him

"I do too." He said, slowing down when they passed an abandoned car, before moving on when they say a walker moving inside.

There was another stretch of silence, Beth shifted in her seat and finally broke it. "Daryl, we gotta stop for a couple of minutes," she said awkwardly.

"Why?" He asked her, they were in the middle of nowhere and there was nothing around.

"I gotta pee." She said quickly, turning red.

"Do we gotta." He asked her, reminding her of Jimmy the last time they had gone to an away football game.

"Yes we gotta." She said annoyed. "God only knows when we're going to be surrounded by walkers, and I am not gonna pee in the car."

"Fine." He said, pulling the car off to the side of the road near a couple more abandoned cars. These ones were obviously empty, doors thrown open. "Don't go in the woods though. Too many walkers to risk it."

"Where am I supposed to go then?" She griped. He wasn't the boss of her, and she could have ignored him, but sense won out over sensitivity and it left her annoyed.

"Go off the back of the SUV" he told her; at her look he added "Or behind one of those cars" he pointed to them. "I ain't gonna watch ya." He shook his head as she walked away. "Damn women." He kept his back to her, but covertly used the reflection in the mirror to make sure noting was coming down the road in her direction.

Beth saw nothing ahead of her, and glancing back, she saw Daryl's reflection, so she bent a little further down. That was when she saw it. "Daryl!" She yelled, popping up from where she had been, waving him over to where she was before ducking back down.

He walked over to her, looking for danger and confused by the lack of it. "What is it?" He grumbled, she was under the car, with only her legs sticking out. She fidgeted and fought for a moment, before starting to shimmy her way out.

"This." She said when she had finished working her way out from under the car. She had a sheriff's hat in her hand. A very distinctive, worn sheriff's hat. "Carl was here."

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.

They'd searched high and low after that. On closer inspection, they'd found bullet holes in the fender of the car, and an empty gas tank. "Carl, and anyone he was with, musta made it this far before they ran out of gas." He said, looking for signs of anyone else. "Dark hair on the drivers headrest… he's with Michonne at least" He told her.

"Yes!" Beth smiled. "He'll be alright then." The thought of Carl on his own scared her, he was too brash and still had too much growing up to do. Michonne would keep him in line and take care of him. "Michonne and Rick were together right before we left, if he's with her it means Rick is probably with them too."

"Hope so." Daryl said, walking the edge of the forest looking for a sign of them. Either the hat was there from before the storm, or they'd walked along the road for a while. "No sign here, we can walk up the road a ways, see if we see something further on."

"Sounds good." Beth said, moving to the other side of the road and checking along the edge for anything, "Where are we anyways?"

Daryl shrugged. "Cut through a coupla' no name roads and drives to get here. Gotta see what the next road is before I know for sure." He told her. He was good with direction, and knew they were north of the prison, but they'd crisscrossed so much he wasn't certain of distance. During the supply runs he'd practically memorized the old beat up map they used. He could see a road up ahead; when he could see the sign and get a lock on their location, it would make him feel better.

"Feels like we made it a ways." She muttered from her side of the road. Of course, she'd never been past the prison gates since they'd made their way in; they could have circled around the prison all day, and she never would have known. They were close enough to the sign now, that she could read what it said. "Daryl, does Brighton Road mean anything to you?"

"Brighton?" He asked her to double check, before walking crossing the road to read it himself. She nodded and he just started laughing. "Don't need to keep searching for them anymore. If they made it here, I know where they would be." He couldn't help shaking his head and laughing a little. "I'll be damned."

"What's so funny." Beth asked, nothing she's seen made any sense to her. "What's around here?"

"Nothing much now." He said, checking the pack on his back and turning back to the car. "But go back down that road a ways and we'll be back to where this all started."

"How so?" She asked, crossing the road and running a little to keep up with his long strides.

He stopped and scratched his head. "If Rick and Michonne made it this far, they would 'a gone anywhere they thought was safe. Not many places like that anymore. Go down that road a ways, and well find a place that used to be really safe, least for those already in it."

"You can't mean..." She asked, not liking where he was going.

"Damn straight." He looked at her, and saw a fierce edge to her he'd never noticed when they were in the prison. "Think it's time to see what's left of Woodbury"


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Originally I said I would have a wrap up of last chapter with this one, but unfortunately some plans changed… this one has a TRIGGER WARNING in it too.

Breakaway Chapter 6

Beth didn't know what to make of Woodbury, when they finally got there. When she had first heard of the town, she had imagined something out of a 50's movie, though dated, and darkened with a seedy underbelly. After all the fighting, she had learned it had turned into something resembling a military encampment. When all was said and done; at least, when they had thought it was all said and done; they had gone back to discover that in his psychotic rage, most of it was burnt to the ground. Now she was working her way down a street that looked like something out of a war.

He had set everything ablaze and leveled most of the town. Little signs of life stuck out through the ashes; a singed but still readable general store sign, the façade of a bank, the brick behind it still standing although the rest of the building had fallen. Everything had a layer of grime to it, a mix of ash and rain leaving a gray muck. Bending down, she picked up a doll resting in the mud. "This place could have been wonderful." She spoke softly, she could see the squandered potential, and felt another flash of anger for all the pain the governor had caused. "Any guesses where they might be?" She asked Daryl, staying close to his side.

"Main meeting area was up ahead." He said, pointing down the street. "Not much left 'round here. Man did a good job of destroying this place." He scratched his head, surveying the area. There wasn't much to look at, none of the buildings were standing. Thankfully, though the entryway had been left open, no walkers had wandered in, at least none that they had encountered yet. "Coupla places off the main drag we can check out too, probably didn't take the time to burn everything."

Poking along, they walked the main drag until entering the meeting area. Beth knew they were there when she saw the bleachers set up in a semi-circle. "What was this place?" She asked Daryl

"Arena." He but out. "It's where they had me an' Merle fight before we escaped." He shook his head, looking around for anything. Other than the bleachers, this was just a desolate scrap of land. "Down a ways is a set of buildings; the rest of the town didn't know about, only the Governor and his henchman."

"What was there?" She asked, kicking her foot in the dirt.

"Nothing good." He bit at his thumb before he spoke again. "It's where he held Glen and your sis. Where we found Andrea."

"Oh." She didn't like the sound of that. "Bright side, Rick and Michonne were there too, they'd know about it, right?"

"Hope so." He said, leading the way. Daryl was pleased that Beth was quiet after that. All told, she was holding up, and outside the prison walls, she'd proven mostly useful, or at least willing to work. His respect for the girl was growing each day; in the prison, she'd been stuck in his mind as an annoying teen who just watched the baby. At some point in time she'd grown into something more. She had a good intuition for danger, and could easily hold her own with some training. When they got back with the others, he'd use her on some of the runs they would be needing.

Beth looked apprehensively at the building in front of her. Even If she hadn't known the history, the bleak air it gave off was more than enough to give her a sense of foreboding. Opening the door and going inside, the darkness seeped into her bones and made her head ache. Deserted at least, their footsteps echoed hollowly down the corridor. They worked quickly, moving through room by room; each one empty or nearly so, with only a scattering of chairs and tables. When they entered one of the last rooms, she paused; there was something lying on the floor. She went over and picked up what ended up being clothes, a black shirt and bra; and a wave of disgust washed over her. "Maggies… from before." She whispered, knowing Daryl would hear. She didn't want to keep them, the knowledge of what they meant twisting her insides like her hands twisted the cloth itself, but she had nothing of her sisters and the thought of leaving any of her behind in here was repellant.

"S'not her." Daryl said from the doorway, reading her mind in a way that surprised her.

"Right." She said, stopping her hands turning action. She looked down at them one more time, before dropping the bra to the ground and putting the shirt on herself. Under the layer of dust, it still smelt like Maggie, and she knew she'd made the right choice.

"Ready?" He asked from the doorway.

"Yeah." She said. She followed Daryl into the hallway, and then waited while he searched the room that had held Glen. She didn't need to see that. They continued down the hall, getting more and more discouraged. When they reached the end of the hall, with only one more door, Daryl hesitated. "What is it?" She asked.

"Andrea." He said glumly. "Didn't care for her as much as the others, but wouldn't wish her end on my enemy. 'Cept the Governor." Going to the doorway, he looked back and warned her, "we left a downed walker in here."

She shook her head, foolishly thinking she knew what was to come. Daryl had seen it once already, and was somewhat prepared, but the chair sitting in the middle of the room, and the stench from the walker was just too much for her. "Sick of getting sick." She grumbled from the doorway.

"Getting better at movin' on though." He told her. Scanning the room, he saw it was the way they'd left it months ago. "Shit!" He yelled, throwing the pliers that had been left on the ground.

Beth flinched, but wasn't scared. Daryl had a temper; all the months on the road had her used to when it reared its head. The searching was getting to her too, and she was fighting the urge to kick something. Turning away, she started to make her way outside. The anger burning inside of her had nowhere to go, and was making hot, angry tears, make their way down her cheeks. She swiped at them, getting angrier at herself for crying again, and pushed against the wall with both hands. Breathing heavily, each wave she pushed against the wall, waiting until the rage slowly receded and left her feeling deflated and depressed. She could hear Daryl walking up behind her, and swiped at her face to try to hide the tears.

Walking out into the open, Daryl saw the red eyes, and could guess what they were from by the tracks cut through the dirt on her cheeks. Daryl left her to herself, afraid to get her going on another crying jag as they made their way out of the town. When they reached the gate, they climbed back into their car and started driving away. A group of cars was just a few hundred yards the other way away from the gates to Woodbury, when they drove by them, Daryl saw a piece of paper taped to one of the windows. He threw the car in park, and made his way over to it, Beth right behind him. "Ricks got a thing 'bout leaving signs on cars." He told her, thinking back to the quarry camp and the highway with Sophia.

"Rick, Carl, Michonne, N to JASPER" Beth read quietly. She smiled at the sight, confirmation that they were still alive. "Let's go." She told him, images of seeing them before nightfall dancing in front of her head.

"Can't" He told her, conflicted. "Got less than an hour of sun, can't travel these roads in the dark. We can sleep in the car, but gotta get it somewhere safe first." He thought for a moment. "We know the town's empty, be better off driving in there and closing the gate for the night."

Beth frowned, she didn't like what he told her, but she couldn't disagree with it. "Fine." She said, and walked back to the car. The short ride into Woodbury was fast, and all too soon, they were set up behind the gates and what relative safety they offered. The setting sun cast gold, orange, and red along the rubble, she could almost see the buildings burning.

"There's something else." Daryl told her. "We can't go chasin' them without going back to the prison, or we run the risk of someone else findin' our sign and thinking we're gone when we don't come back. Hell, go chasin' after them now, and we may not get another chance to find the others here."

The thought of Maggie thinking she was gone punched her in her gut. She bit her lip thinking over their options. Stay, and know that Rick Carl and Michonne were gone north, but hope to run across someone else; or go chasing them, hope to catch them, and pray to God someone else sees their signs and decides to follow behind. "Maggie, where are you?" She muttered under her breath. The sun was almost set now, shining straight on them now, hurting her eyes and dancing off the windshield. Her mind didn't want to think, or make a choice; she knew they were standing at a fork in the road, once decided, it would permanently change their course.

Daryl sighed, Beth had shut down in the seat next to him; he didn't think she even noticed the tears coming down her face. He didn't care which they decided, either way seemed as likely as the other to lead them to someone eventually. He wouldn't make the decision that could take her farther away from her sister. He was certain they would end up staying, there was no way she was ready to make the decision to leave her sister yet, and that suited him fine. He reclined his seat back and looked up at the ceiling of the car, it was starting to fall and had a gash along the driver's side. "Look," he told her, running his hand through his hair. "Don't need to make a choice till daybreak. And I'm not makin' the choice 'bout this. You are." Her eyes went to his quickly.

"Daryl I shouldn't..." she shook her head.

"Ya should." He told her, waiting until her gaze met his and refusing to let her look away, "We were all family at the prison. But Maggie, she's your kin_" _he said with a stronger inflection. "If ya think she's 'round here, we stay; if ya think it's time to go, we go." He closed his eyes and lay back. "Now I' ain't hardly slept in two days. Keep lookout."

She kept quiet, and soon she could hear soft snoring next to her. She smiled at the sleeping Daryl, resting he looked years younger. She looked out the window, but the fading light mixed with the decayed buildings left her feeling unsettled. She turned and lay on her side facing Daryl, seeing him even in the darkness while she thought.

"What do I do?" She whispered, barely exhaling as she spoke, quietly so it wouldn't wake him. She thought over the options. Her daddy would want her to do what was safest, and leave the rest to God, which probably meant going north away from the glut of walkers in the area. Maggie would want her to stay safe at all cost, find somewhere safe, hunker down and leave the risk to her. Beth couldn't even guess what her Mama would want her to do. All she knew, was that she couldn't leave without letting someone know, but that any time they wasted going back to the prison could put their only lead further out of reach. She sighed, Daryl shouldn't have to carry her dead weight all over Georgia looking for a sister that could be dead, but she couldn't bring herself to make the call to leave. Not yet at least.

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Daryl had an internal clock that usually woke him after more than 4 hours sleep, so when he woke up and the eastern sky was lightening he was surprised. Beth was lying on her side facing him, eyes looking through him into the distance. "Did you get any sleep?" He asked her, watching, he could see her eyes shift back to the present.

"No." She told him, blinking several times. "Told myself I wouldn't sleep till I made a choice… just couldn't..." Her voice trailed off and slurred from exhaustion.

"How is this even a hard choice for ya?" He asked her. "Knew from the moment I closed my eyes we'd be staying and lookin' for sis."

"You know I want to." She told him, shifting in her seat. "But you shouldn't have to stay here with me when we have a good lead on someone else. I can't be that selfish, at least that's what I keep telling myself." She brushed her hair behind her shoulder again.

"Look at me." He said, and waited till she listened. "Maggie's my family just as much as Rick, not gonna regret stayin' any more than going. Sides, we can always head to Jasper later."

"Alright then." She nodded her head, feeling better. "We stay."

"Stay." He said in agreement, before opening the door and going to open the gate. It opened with ease, and after going back to the car, he brought them out to head on back to the prison. He didn't know if returning to the prison would be the answer, but he was pretty certain someone else would choose to stay close. They just had to cross paths.

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Beth woke up feeling as if she was in an oven, and realized that wasn't far from the truth with the way the sun was beating down. She had slept the entire drive to the prison and then some, she opened the car door and stepped out, the breeze stepped the heat down from oven like to just plain hot.

"'Bout time." Daryl told her from his spot on the back of the SUV. He'd raised the back hatch, and was resting with his legs straight out in the space left by the folded down seats.

"What time is it?" She asked, still foggy from the odd sleeping hours.

"Afternoon." He told her, working on what was going to be a new bolt. "Do what ya gotta do and get over here. Not enough time for target practice. Sides, you're as good as you're gonna get till we find a smaller one that ya have the strength to handle. May as well show ya how to make more arrorws."

An hour later and Beth was certain she would be dependent on finding manufactured bolts versus homemade arrows for the near future. The minute details, and meticulous finesse required was something she didn't think she'd ever master. Glad to know the details of making them, she was gladder to have someone with her that was actually capable of it. "When we head out today, do you have any ideas where you want to go?" She asked him.

"Just got to keep movin' down the line." He examined the tip, before whittling a little more. "Got three more main roads near here, just got to hope we find something on one of them, and then go from there." He told her. He looked off in the distance. There were a couple of walkers starting to shamble down the drive. Most had followed the herd, and the area had been mostly deserted for a while, but some were slowly starting to make their way back.

"Time to go?" She asked.

"Yup" He told her, putting his knife back in his pocket and stowing the extra wood to finish more later. "Which road ya wanna try first, southwest, true west, or North?

"Southwest" She chose randomly.

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This road had no towns off it, so much as several groupings of houses here and there. The first bunch was a complete bust, but the next was larger, they would have to spend the night and search it in the morning. Stopping at the first house in the cluster, they worked as a team and quickly cleared it. "No food though. So sick of damn beans." He muttered.

"Go hunting then." She told him, shrugging. The house had been used as a hideout by someone, and the windows were boarded up. It's only doors were sturdy wooden ones with strong bolts, no walker would be able to break in. He looked at her, unsure. "I won't go wandering off, and I can't help but crave a bit of meat. Even if its owl." She told him smiling. Protein may be protein to her muscles, but her taste buds could tell the difference.

"Alright then." He told her, and went and gathered his things up. He didn't like leaving her alone, but being by themselves meant it had to happen sometime, and the loner in him was dying to come out for a while "Back 'round dark" He told her, guessing he had about four hours left to find dinner.

"Sounds good." She said, emptying their pack and reorganizing it for something to do, "I'll keep watch for the others." She packed the bag and left it by the door for a quick exit if needed, and went upstairs after Daryl made his way out. The emptiness of the house bothered her a bit, she was so used to living in the overcrowded prison. The best vantage point to lookout was in the smallest bedroom, two windows on the north and east walls gave a more complete view than any others did. Pink and frilly, the room was a girl's nursery, and reminded her of Judith.

Her heart ached for lil' asskicker; she knew that even if Judith had made it out of the prison, her life was now on borrowed time – if someone had grabbed her they would be walking around with a screaming target on their back. It had bothered her, sometimes, being the one expected to do the cooking, cleaning, and baby watching. So many days at the prison, she had wished for a chance to prove herself, for something to cause a break in the routine. She laughed bitterly; what she wouldn't give to be back there now. "Don't it always seem to go, that ya don't know what you've till it's gone." She sung brokenly.

That was one of the little things she missed most. She loved music, and the need for never-ending quiet was something her brain still couldn't adjust to. She knew enough to sing quietly though, it helped to pass the time waiting for dinner.

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Daryl was annoyed. It was dead silent out, no breeze and no animals. He'd hiked a good mile into the forest around them before he's even seen evidence of a squirrel. The animal population was going down same as the human one. Either the walkers were catching them or they had fallen back further into the forest to avoid it. Either way it meant he wasn't going to catch much.

Walking along, he found a berry bush; he took a handful to eat now, and spent time to pick a good amount to bring back to Beth. "Might keep her happy," He muttered, hoping he'd catch something but wanting to bring something else back just in case. He took a swig from his water bottled and stopped moving, allowing the hunter in him to listen and decide which way to go. The ground sloped away, forming a valley if he kept going south; it would naturally draw more wildlife in. Decision made, he set off.

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Beth had been singing, doing whatever she could to keep her mind at peace while she watched the same damn tree for what felt like forever. Or an hour at least. "Doesn't really matter." She muttered defeated, turning away from the window and running her fingers through her hair. She wasn't going to see anyone here, because there wasn't anyone here. If anyone came close, she would hear the car miles out in this silence. Deciding it was as good as time as any to get cleaned up, she turned away from the window.

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Daryl was tired, but happy; after following the valley another mile, he'd found a raccoon den. They were resting in there now, but would be coming out soon to forage at twilight. It would mean getting back later than he had told Beth, but for the meat, it was worth it. He climbed up a tree across the way, and enjoyed the chance to sit. Chewing on his thumb, he waited.

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Being clean always made Beth feel better, and this time felt no different. Unconsciously, the songs she hummed were happier. The sky was starting to darken, the sun casting long shadows off everything now. Daryl said he would be back by sunset, so she went back to her perch to watch for him.

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Later, he would thank his lucky stars he'd found the den. Because of it, he'd climbed the tree, the tree that was currently keeping him hidden from a wandering herd of walkers. They had come up out of nowhere, filling the ridge before the crunching leaves had alerted him to anything coming near. So long as he was silent, he should be okay; the night was dark enough their decayed eyes couldn't see him. Several dozen had already lumbered by him. He said a silent prayer that the raccoon would know to stay in for now too.

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Beth was starting to get worried now. It was well and truly dark, and Daryl still wasn't back. She knew he wouldn't leave her, and she knew he could handle himself; but this world didn't hold any guarantees and the thought of making her way on her own left her in a special state of panic. Already the "what will I do's" were swirling in her head. She fought them back by reminding herself that anything could have delayed Daryl, and if catching an animal meant he wouldn't get back till dawn it would be worth it. He was more than capable and would be all right.

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Pissed. That's what he was as he angrily bit his finger. The damn raccoons ventured out in a lull between walkers, and had quickly been cornered and caught. The walkers were eating his dinner right below him, the noise sickening him and angering him more every moment. There was no helping it, he would just head back to the house once the herd moved through, and look to the bright side of at least enjoying the berries.

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At some point in time, Beth had dozed off with her head against the window. It was dark outside; the moon a sliver so thin no one would be able to seen her anyways. Hearing noise downstairs she got up and stretched before going down to see what Daryl had caught. This house had a camp stove in it with some gas still; her mouth was watering at the thought of some fresh cooked meat.

"Whatcha got?" She called out to him, walking into the kitchen.

"Why hello sweetheart." A man that was NOT Daryl said from her across the room.

A candle was lit in the middle of the room; the small flame cast just enough light for her to see some details. He was mid-30's with greasy dark hair, not super tall but a little taller than her. Dirty, but she guessed underneath the dirt he was pale like her, with a southern twang. Unlike Daryl's comforting drawl, it left her skin crawling. She looked to the windows; he'd covered them at least. She knew they shouldn't have the candle lit but the idea of being in the dark with this guy left her more nervous than the walkers seeing though an errant crack. "Who are you? Where are you from?" She asked steadily, keeping her nerves clamped down.

"Names Nate." He said leering at her. "Had a group of thirty, but got split up months ago. Recently was helping a pair of girls but lost 'em." He shook his head and tried to look sad, but it didn't take. "You?"

"Beth. Have a big group, but we're a bit split up." She told him. She'd debated lying, but didn't see the point to it.

"By yourself, Beth?" He asked, looking around.

"No." She said. "I got a partner, his names Daryl. He's out hunting but he should be back any minute." At least she hoped so; he was hours late already.

"Got bad news then, sweetheart." He shook his head. "Whole reason I tucked in here was to avoid a herd working its way through. If your boys out there in that, he ain't lastin' long." He started coming around the island to shake her hand; she stepped around to avoid him.

"He ain't a boy, and can handle himself." She fought to keep her nerves steady, the stranger-danger klaxon inside her was screeching. "All the same to you, we don't make friends. I won't force you into the herd tonight, but in the morning I expect you'll move along." She rested her hands on her hips, and cursed inside when she realized her gun was upstairs in the nursery. She had her knife at least, but that meant close contact, and wouldn't do much good against the gun she could see tucked into the band of his pants. "And I ain't your sweetheart so stop calling me that."

"You're one uppity bitch, ain't ya?" He asked, his nice façade slipping even more. "What would you prefer then; cupcake? Honey? Sugar? Gotta be something fitting and ya look tasty."

She grimaced and fought back revulsion. "Let's not call me anything. Let's just say you keep to this side of the house for the night and leave me alone." She was shaking inside, but happily, her voice didn't betray her.

"What if I don't wanna?" He grinned at her and licked his lips, circling around again.

Thinking quick Beth fought through the rising panic. She was between the island and the door outside; if what he said was true, and she didn't get the sense he was lying; walking outside just meant death. She needed to keep him circling a little bit more, he was so caught up in the tease if she could take a few more steps she could get around him. And get to a better weapon. She consciously let her lip tremble. "Please, you're scaring me."

He laughed at that. "Good. Means you'll taste sweeter." He leered even more and took a couple more steps towards her.

"What do you want from me?" She asked him, circling a bit more. Just a few more steps…

"Uh, uh, uh." He told her; she must have given something away. She was close enough to the door to run, but the gun pointing at her stopped her in her tracks. He walked up to her, and breathed into her ear "All the same to you, I'll stick with sweetheart. And no need to get so worked up. We're just going to have a little fun." She shuddered when he ran a finger down her cheek. "No need to be scared. I'll be gentle… mostly." She lost it at that, and letting her weak stomach work with her, she managed to coat his shoes in a good amount of bile. He stepped away from her and cursed. "Stupid Bitch!"

At that point, she said a silent thank you for Michonne and kicked him in the groin. He went down hard, but grabbed her on the way down, and twisted them around so she was trapped under him. "Get off me." She spit out, before lights danced in front of her eyes when he smacked her temple with the gun. After that, she just saw blackness.

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The moon was high above, and the herd kept on coming. It was smaller than the one from before, but more staggered. He wouldn't be going anywhere tonight. Sending a thank you that at least Beth was safe in the house, he tied himself to the tree and decided to make it his bed for the night.


	7. Chapter 7

Breakaway7

A/N First, of, let me just say THANK YOU ALL for the kind, constructive reviews. I'm writing this because it's something I enjoy, but the knowledge and encouragement you give me makes me better, and that is something I cherish. There were a couple reviews from people not signed into an account, so thank you Guest's for leaving a review, and in response to one of them, I would love to ramp up the flirting some. In several places, I have had more flirting in the rough draft that I ultimately cut out. I don't like doing that, but in reading the thing as a whole I have to keep reminding myself that even though I have been writing the story for weeks, in their world they have been on their own for four days. We're only a couple days in from the fall of the prison, and Daryl has only known about Carol for just barely longer than that. They both have some growing and healing to get through before we get into anything else. We will get there eventually though, this does have an endgame to it plotted out and I think (or hope) that it will please most.

I know I think sick and twisted thoughts sometimes, but this is by far the hardest thing I have ever written, and could only do it in small bits and pieces. So obviously, if you have read the last chapters, TRIGGER WARNING again, though I believe this will be the last one. For now at least ~Jenna

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Pain and pressure was the first things Beth felt when she came to. The pounding in her head was radiating out in time to her heartbeat. Her arms were tied up above her, too tight; she couldn't feel her hands at all. Her feet were on the ground, so she shifted a little; now that she was awake she could support herself some and take some of the pressure of her wrist. She tried to open her eyes but closed them quickly. She was in complete darkness; she moved her head to the side and let out a moan as the action caused the pain to multiply. She'd had a concussion once from a fall off of Nelly, and her head felt something like this.

"'Bout time." The man's voice coming from everywhere and nowhere at once left her terrified. She didn't know if it was the concussion or something worse, but his voice seemed to be echoing all around her. Automatically she started twisting around, trying to figure out where he was. "Wouldn't do that too much if I was you." He said again. The echo was driving her crazy, and how could he see what she was doing? "Twist much more and you'll really hurt your hands." He told her; she could feel he was right, anytime she moved a jolt went down her right wrist, twisting it just enough out of place.

She wouldn't free herself like this, she realized, and stopped fighting. She stayed completely still, and settled her breathing as much as she could. Still breathing heavily, she was at least quiet about it, trying to hear something in the darkness. Nothing. What was this guys deal? Her mind was racing, going through all the training she'd been taught by Michonne, and everything Maggie had told her about the Governor. She wouldn't get anywhere tied up, and he wouldn't release her unless he thought he was going to get something. Swallowing, she bit out "do what you're going to do to me." She knew this situation was one of the worse things she could imagine, but she would be damned if she would let this piece of trash beat her. A shuffling of boots on the floor, and she felt his hand entwine itself in her hair, pulling it, hard. It hurt like hell on her already aching head, but at least the movement shifted the blindfold around her eyes. By the light of a little camp torch, she could now see they were in an unfinished basement. There were no windows, so she could only hope they were still in the same house. She looked above her, and saw that her tied hands. They were held by rope around an old pipe she pulled as hard as she could, and it didn't even budge.

He laughed. "I 've gotten damn good at tying rope, you're not going anywhere till I let ya." He walked away from her, and insolently rested against a washer a few feet away. "We're gonna play one of my favorite games now." He pulled out a pocketknife and lazily turned it over in his hands. "You answer my questions honest and I cut your clothes, you lie to me and I cut your skin. Understand?"

She shook her head yes. Most of her was beyond the point of panic now, but there was a still small part of her that was calm. Beth wasn't usually one to hear voices in her head, but every time this portion of her spoke, it was with Michonne's cool, calm demeanor, and she welcomed it. That part of her was happy with this development, it meant he wasn't going to do anything to her straightaway, and any amount of time she could buy increased the chances of Daryl finding them. "Alright." She told him coolly,

"Well let's get to know each other a little then, shall we?" He brought a folding chair over from the far corner, and sat in it, so close to her, his leg brushed hers. "This one's open ended, just tell me something 'bout yourself."

What could she tell him? She thought as quickly as she could, not wanting to lie but not wanting to give him anything to use against her later. She must have thought for too long, suddenly she could feel the cool blade of the knife along her upper arm. "Sing!" She yelled out, before the knife bit into her. "I like to sing. "

"Do ya now?" He smirked, "Guess that means later I'll get myself a concert." He reached down to the ground, and took off her left sock. She guessed her shoes had fallen off when she was out.

He reached over for her other sock and she twisted out of his way "You said one before," She murmured. "That's two. Give me another question."

"Oh I am gonna have fun with you." He laughed, but left her leg alone, "But I'll let ya have this one; no one but your dead partner knows where we were. We've got all the time in the world, or what's left of it." He chucked, again "You're a little spitfire, this is gonna be fun." He ran a hand down her leg, she tried to turn away more but it was too much on her wrist,

"Play with fire and get burned." She retorted back.

"I think I'll risk it." He thought for a moment, and then asked "How many in this group of yours?"

"Gimme a minute." She told him, counting in her head. "Start of the spring there was nearly 70, but then a fever moved through and brought us down a bit. Don't know the full number anymore." She bit her lip at that, not wanting to cry and give this sicko more ammunition.

"Good girl." He told her, removing her other sock. She wanted to kick him in the face, but the voice inside her said to wait for a better moment. Kicking him now just meant he would be pissed off and she'd still be tied. "You're a pretty little thing," He stroked her hair, and she stayed completely still. "Bet you had all the boys at school drooling over you."

"Was that a question?" She asked him.

"Naw, more like a fact." He looked her over again, she could see him following the curve of her body, "How old are you?"

"18… I think" She didn't like where this was going but she was damned if she could see a way out of it yet. 'Be patient', the voice inside her head told her.

"Mmmmm. Baby girl face with a woman's body. You're the best of both worlds." He licked his lips at her, and she cringed.

The knife came out again then, and though she tried to stop them, a few tears fell as he cut off her pants. She was hyperventilating now, the little control she'd had over her body leaving her as the games torturous point got to her. "Please, let me go" She cried.

"Knew I'd get through to you eventually." He said, running his hands up and under her shirt. She flinched away when he reached her still healing stomach. And dread filled her when he started lifting up her shirt to see what it was. "Gotta check this out." He told her, and brought out the knife and cut off her shirt too. "Spitfires got a boo-boo." He said, and leaned down to kiss it.

"Get off me!" She yelled out, twisting again, not even noticing when it caused the rope to tear through the skin on her wrist.

"Shut up!" He slapped her across the face, hard enough to split her lip. She spit out a mix of blood and saliva, and cringed when he bent down and picked up the blindfold. "Gotta better use for this now," He told her, before tying it around her mouth to muffle anything she said.

"Mmph" She told him, as it was going on, while the voice inside her head berated her. Now she was still tied up, the game, and the time it bought her was over if she couldn't talk, and there was no way she could yell out for help or to warn Daryl when he came back. When. She would not believe he was dead yet. He couldn't be. A minute passed with her just standing there, then another. Her bra and underwear were still on; she usually wore something much more revealing than this to the beach, but she still felt shame under his gaze. 'His shame, not yours.' The voice reminded her.

He was standing against her now, his body fully clothed thankfully, the roughness of the jeans scratching against her skin. "End of the world, and you still smell like strawberries." He murmured, leaning in close to her. His hands were roaming all over her body, squeezing and pinching as she twisted and turned to avoid them. "Gotta say, if that's what you smell like when you're scared, I could get used to it."

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The forest below him was eerily silent. It always was after a herd moved through, he'd found in the last year of hunting. Everything dead or hiding. There hadn't been a walker in sight for going on an hour, and the sun was just starting to crest on the horizon. He'd slept off and on through the night; any little motion of his body instantly brought him out of it. Moving carefully, he untied himself, and dropped down from the tree. He kicked at the ground where some bones and debris from the raccoon carcass lay. "Damn things." He muttered, before starting the walk back to the house.

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Beth didn't know what time it was, all she knew was that she was sore. He hadn't removed anything else, just left the room and gone upstairs, leaving her cold, terrified and shivering. His touches had been harsh, and leaving her body littered with bruises, along with the old ones from before. She could hear him walking around upstairs; each step made her heart beat faster as she wondered when he would come back down. It had cost her a fingernail cut to the quick, but she had managed to get the rope loosened around her wrists. She still couldn't get it off, he'd tied it the right, or wrong way. She could get feeling to her fingers again though, and after a few minutes of excruciating pins and needles, she was now mostly just uncomfortable. And cold. And she really, really needed to pee.

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"Shit" Daryl muttered, ducking behind a tree. There was a group of a dozen or so walkers in his way. They must have scored a big meal in their wander through the forest, to be delayed so far behind the others. He was good, but taking down a dozen at once was something even he couldn't do. He checked out the terrain, and cursed again, there was a stream to one side of them; he wouldn't be able to get across without drawing attention. The sloping hill meant he'd have to go up and over, which would add another mile to the trip. Sighing, he just wanted to get back home for a while. Well, not home, but where the only family he currently had was.

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A creaking hinge brought Beth back to reality. The wooden stairs creaked, one after another as Nate came back down. "Good morning sweetheart." He told her as he made his way down. "Not going to say anything?" He asked.

"Mmph" She said through the blindfold that still tied around her mouth.

"Oh that's right," He said, making his way over. "Be nice and it stays off." He reached up and pulled it down around her neck.

"Thank you." She said softly. The voice in her head had asserted itself in the silence and was telling her to play nice for now. "I really need to pee." She told him, blushing as she did.

"You have to earn it." He told her sadistically. "You do something for me, and I can do something for you."

"What do you want me to do?" She asked, confused by how little she could do in her current position.

"I have a rule." He told her, fingering the strap of her bra. "Things come off they don't go back on." He followed the edge of her bra cup, stroking it, but not going under. "I'm not a monster, I won't force you to do anything. It's gonna be your choice."

"I can wait." She told him angrily. The voice had reared its head at the thought of letting him get anything else off her.

"So can I." He said, looking over her body. His eyes zeroed in on the ropes around her wrist and she nearly lost it when he re-tightened them. "Uh, uh, uh." He told her, before turning and walking up the stairs again.

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The berries he'd meant to give to Beth had become his dinner last night, so he went a little more out of his way to stop and pick some more. The sky had brightened enough to where he could see where he was going, but everything was in an eerie, gloomy light. The bush was overflowing with succulent fruit however, and after snacking while picking and good bagful for Beth, he moved on.

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She'd lasted as long as she could, before she lost control of her bladder. The voice told her it was okay, that it would make her even more repellant to him, and the more repellant the better. Still, now she smelt awful, and she was almost painfully cold. She'd fought with the rope more, but whatever he had done was cruelly efficient, she couldn't get anything loose, and now some more of her fingernails were starting to bleed.

She was in a pit of despair. Daryl had said he'd be back by nightfall, and he hadn't. She knew he could handle himself, but there was only so much any one person could do. What if he'd caught up with someone else? What if he had just decided it wasn't worth it to come back for her? She wasn't built for this world. Her sobs were coming on nonstop now. This was supposed to be her last summer of childhood, or should have been before the world had yanked it away early. She should be spending the summer packing, getting ready to go off to college, preparing for her first time on her own without her family by her side. A summer spent at graduation parties and days at the lake, not taking care of a dead woman's baby and fighting for her life. She didn't know how to stop the cries wracking her body, she just knew that she was done.

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Daryl crested the last ridge to get him back to the house. He could see the line of them in the distance. Another mile or so and he would be back. The sun was just about up now, and the light it cast made the way much easier. He would be back in no time.

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When the door slowly creaked its way open, Beth swallowed hard. The voice inside her was telling her to be strong, but it was faint and hazy in her head. Nate made his way down the stairs and just looked at her. He sniffed the air and his nose wrinkled in disgust. "Like being in those drawers?" He asked her. "Stewing like the filth ya are?" He moved closer to her, and through the stink, she smelt something sweet. The hand that had been behind his back came forward, and he held a can of peaches. "Was gonna offer ya some food, but don't know that you deserve it now."

She wanted to tell him to go to hell. She wanted to deny the hunger that had been stewing in her since last night. But the rumble of her stomach gave her away and he just chuckled.

"If I can't get ya any other way, I'll get ya through your stomach." He told her, before picking out one of the slices and putting it up to her mouth. "Eat."

She opened her mouth a little, and cringed when he moved the peach slice all around her lips before putting it in her mouth. The sweet taste was almost overpowering, and the juice was drying on her lips making them feel sticky and dirty.

"More?" He asked, using a voice meant to be soothing but sent chills up her spine.

"Yes please." She told him dully.

"Can't feed a dirty girl. Gotta get washed up first." He told her, voice filled with excitement. He pulled out his knife and ran it along her skin, up and down; along her arms and over her chest, before he cut the straps deftly.

She stared ahead blankly, at some point in time her mind had pushed itself into survival mode. Her body may have been in that basement, but her mind was back at the prison, gently rocking Judith, or swaying back in forth in the rocking chair on her back porch back home. If she stayed far away, then no matter what he did, he couldn't touch her.

What did reach through to her, after a few minutes, was the sound of floorboards creaking up above them. He must have noticed them too, because her mouth was immediately gagged again and he whispered "shush" with a finger to his lip as he glanced up. "Maybe your boy did make it." He told her, before checking the gun in his holster and stepping away from her. "Be back in a few."

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When Daryl got to the house he could tell that something was of. There were tracks around the back door that weren't his or Beth's, and the straight lines they went in let him know it wasn't a walker sniffing around either. Looking around he didn't see anything, so quietly as possible, he went and opened the door. In the kitchen, things were moved around, to his trained eye he could easily see a fight had gone down here. There was another pack on the ground; the boots next to it were large enough to match the prints from outside the door. He moved from the kitchen to the hallway and saw Beth's bag on the floor where she had left it the night before. Moving fast but silently, he cleared the upstairs and the rest of the main floor. His heart was beating out of his chest now, where the hell was she?

A creaking door brought him back to the kitchen. The door that opened to the basement was open, and a man was coming out pointing a gun at him. Daryl had the crossbow pointed right back. "You wanna get that gun outta my face?" He bit out. This guy had to know what was going on, there was trouble coming off of him in waves.

"You drop yours first" He responded. "You're the one that broke in my place."

Daryl noticed the gun was steady in his hands; whoever this was, he'd been in some tough spots before, and wasn't afraid to pull the trigger. He had to get the guy to drop the gun before he could attack. "Whatever man," He said nonchalant. "I was just looking for a place to hide out. I went down the road a ways and there's a swarm of walkers blockin' all the roads. Got turned back this way and saw the boards on the house and figured it be as good a place as any to whole up a couple days."

"That right?" Nate asked, looking him up and down. He was thinking through whether this could be Beth's partner or not. He was a male, but that was the only thing that fit with the idea of who the partner could be. This dirty redneck was practically a different race than the sweet southern belle downstairs. No way were they connected. Still didn't hurt to ask some questions and be sure he wasn't dealing with a hero though. "What's ya name?"

"Merle" Daryl answered, thinking quick. If this guy did know where Beth was, chances were she'd said his name. He didn't want a bullet in his gut for saying the wrong thing.

"Ta' hell kind of name is Merle?" The guy asked, snickering.

"Family name," Daryl answered, "Ma wasn't too kind when it came to the teasin' factor. You?"

"Nate.' He answered back. "What's ya story?"

"Teamed up with my brother when the word went to shit, lost him a coupla' months ago. Started out near the coast but there was too damn many walkers out that way. Got near Atlanta 6 months ago, been working my way outta here ever since... seems every time I get a coupl'a miles out, a herd makes me change direction."

"Don't I know it," Nate muttered "Bout what's happened to me. Didn't have a brother, had a group of 30 men at one point; a herd moved through and got most of 'em. Escaped by the skin of my teeth and been on my own ever since. Well, 'cept for finding a piece of tail here and there."

"Nice" Daryl said, channeling his father's sick persona. 'So whatcha think? Can we make a gentleman's bargain, let me in the house for the night and whatever meat I get I share?" He nearly had Nate on the hook; he could feel it.

"Coupla rules first." Nate said, still point the gun at him steadily. "I got a piece a tail downstairs. She's mine, least for now. Bring enough meat in and I may be inclined ta share. Spitfire likes to make noise though, which is why she's downstairs, to keep quiet what with the walkers. "

"Alright," Daryl agreed, absurdly wondering how it could feel so good to know she was downstairs, and so bad to know it at the same time. "Next."

"No interfering with my 'lady time';" He said with a definite leer. "Girl's tasty; but needs to be taught a few things, still a little feisty sometimes."

"Ain't all ladies like that, least when ya first get 'em?" He answered back, shuddering in side as the memory of his father saying the same thing rose to the surface of his memory.

"That's the truth." Nate replied. "Last, I been in a group before, it's not me. I ain't interested in joining up again with any other. Too many tempers and no way to let out your natural urges, ya get my meaning?"

"I do." Daryl answered, "We stick together till it don't suit anymore, then go on our own ways."

"Alright then." Nate nodded, and lowered the gun.

Whoosh

The arrow flew straight and true, and went straight through Nate's left eye. He fell to the floor.

"'Bout time you bastard." He said, before quickly making his way to the basement. "Beth!" He called out, forcefully but quietly, making his way down the stairs. Looking to the left and right, he finally laid eyes on her. "Shit." He turned away from her and looked around. The basement had a laundry with storage, and there were still some blankets and towels around. He grabbed the pink plush one on top, and backed up carefully until he thought he was close to where Beth was. "I got ya'" He whispered to her, turning around and wrapping the blanket around her. Her eyes were wide and she looked like she'd been through the mill. The rest of her was under the blanket, but her arms had bruises all over them, and she had a trail of blood working its way down her arm from a cut on her wrist. "Should'a done more to the bastard than just an arrow." He whispered as he gently took off the gag.

"Thank God." She croaked, slowly starting to breathe more slowly. "Afraid you were gonna get shot. Afraid I was gonna get lost."

"Not lettin one moron take me out," He chuckled, and brought his knife out. She flinched away at the sight of it, and another wave of anger coursed through him. He waited till she looked him in the eye, "You know me Beth. It's Daryl. I'm not gonna hurt ya." He told her, in as soothing a voice as he could manage.

"I know." She shook up and down a little. "At least, my mind knows, bodies still catching up,"

"I bet," He whispered, and using as little motion as possible, cut her bonds. He didn't know how long she had been half hanging like that, but it had been enough that she immediately collapsed against him. He held her tight against him to both comfort himself that she was safe now, and to keep the blanket up. "I got ya," He whispered, flashing back to dealing with his Ma after a traumatizing night with Pop. "I'm gonna pick ya up now," He told her, before slowly bending down to get an arm under her legs and gently lifting her.

Beth tried, but she couldn't stop the trembling in her body as he carried her up the stairs. It may have been warm in the blanket, but she still felt ice cold inside. They reached the kitchen and she could see Nate's body cooling on the floor. "Good." She muttered, seeing the crumpled heap.

Daryl carried her into the living room and laid her down on the couch. "I'll be back with some clothes to change into." He told her, before turning away.

"Some soap and water too." She said weakly.

He nodded his head, and went quickly. He found an old sweatshirt and pants combo in the bedroom, and grabbed some hand soap, washcloth, and a bucket for water from the bathroom, before heading back to her and laying the things down. He had a gallon of water by the back door and brought it over. "It's alright, I'm back." He said gently, stroking her hair, relieved when she moved her head so it connected with his hand more rather than flinching away.

"Gotta get clean." She said, rubbing her arms, groaning as she did. Her arms felt like dead weights even as she tried to move them, and her body nearly gave out when she tried to shift herself up to sitting. "Hurts." She said, through closed eyes, grimacing and clenching her teeth.

"I know." He said gently, getting the bucket of water ready. He didn't know if it would help or harm for him to try and wash her, but he figured wouldn't hurt to try. Moving slowly and carefully, as he did whenever he encountered a hurt animal, he brought the washcloth up to her face. Carefully he wiped away the mix of sweat, blood, and spit on it. "S'alright?" He asked, scared to make it worse.

"Uh huh." She told him. She lay mostly still, but turned as much as she could to help his ministrations.

"Where next?" He asked, willing to do whatever she needed at this point.

"Arms." She whispered, barely moving them on the blanket.

He worked methodically down her left, then her right; then adjusted the blanket up with her permission to wipe down her legs. After that, he was torn; he didn't know what the bastard had done to her, and he didn't want to make anything worse. But he also remembered back to the days when he was the abused one, and how strong the desire to get clean was; it overcame everything else. "What should I do?" He asked gently.

She took a quick breath in, thinking through what he was saying. Before today she'd been pure, and hadn't ever been touched by a guy, save for some light groping with Jimmy and Zach. Nothing like what Nate had done to her. She looked at the man in front of her, and she knew he was sincerely offering just to help her. "Past the point of modesty now, aren't I?" She asked, laughing sadly.

"Never." He whispered fiercely. "Nothing that monster did has changed anything 'bout you, ya hear." He grabbed her hand and held it.

"I know, mostly." She said sadly, feeling the strength of his convictions in the strong press of his hand. She felt safe here, and that helped make her decision. "I need to be clean." She told him.

"Ok." He agreed, before picking up the washcloth again. He moved as clinically as possible, revealing as little of her as he could. Still, when he moved the blanket, her breathing quickened. "Okay?" He asked, ready to stop whenever she needed.

"Need a minute." She told him, reminding herself through the rush of adrenaline where she was and who she was with. He sat next to her waiting patiently. "Okay."

He finished soon after, and after giving her a moment to dry, he grabbed the pants and helped slide her into them; then helped her into the sweatshirt. He looked at the cuts on her wrists; they would need fixing, but it could wait until morning. Or rather, afternoon, since he guessed it was around 8 am currently. "All done for now." He whispered gently, "Gotta take care of those cuts soon, but we both need a breather for a while. Ya want to stay down here or go upstairs?"

"Upstairs." She whispered, "As far away from here as possible. Help me up and I can do it." She stated determined.

"Alright," He said, grabbing onto both of her hands, and helping to pull her up to sitting. He gave her a minute, and then when she started trying to rise he helped pull her, before wrapping an arm around her middle to steady her.

"I seem to be saying this a lot, but thanks." She said quietly.

"No need," he replied simply. "Ya just gotta do for family." They made it a couple steps, her feet faltering the whole way, before her ankle gave out from under her. She would have fallen, but Daryl's quick reflexes meant the arm around her tightened in the nick of time. "Just let me." He told her, firmly but gently, as he picked her up and carried her the rest of the way into the master bedroom.

"Mmmn" She moaned slightly when she settled on the mattress, it felt like she was resting on a cloud, and comforted her in her most achy places.

Daryl stood above her, rubbing his head and trying to come up with a way to ask what he had to know. "Beth, I'm sorry to ask this so soon, but I gotta know if I gotta go get something. Do I?"

She looked at him confused for a minute, before the slow-moving gears of her brain put together what he was awkwardly asking. "No Daryl, ya don't need to go get anything. Ya stopped him before he did more than terrorize me."

"Thank God for that" He said joylessly. "Go to sleep now, I'll take the trash out downstairs." He tried to move away from her, but her hand shot out and grabbed his, quicker than he thought she could move in her current state.

"Stay." She said, half between a request and plea. "Alone means the memories come back. You keep them away."

He met her eyes and could see the mix of terror and pain hiding right behind the surface; he knew he couldn't say no to her. "Alright," He said, settling in beside her on the bed. He laid far enough away that they weren't' touching, but for the hand that she would not let go. That, she held onto like a lifeline. Long after she'd fallen asleep he still couldn't get it way; every time he tried she just held on tighter. "Worse ways to steal a coupl'a hour's sleep." He muttered to himself, before letting his eyes fall shut.

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A/N: Seriously, hardest thing I have ever written, bar none. I hope this didn't go too far into detail, I really debated how much I needed to add, walking the line between authenticity, need, and exploitation. Anyways, this is the darkest this story will ever go, because I could barely write the thing, and really don't ever want to put myself back in the place of someone like Nate. Again, thank you for all the kind and constructive reviews, they really, really help me grow.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N1: Sorry for the novel length Authors notes, I broke it into subsections to make things easier, and there is still a full-length chapter after it all!

A/N2: RECAP: For those who weren't able to read the last few chapters because of the trigger warning, these are the events that happened…

In CHAPTER 5, Beth and Daryl investigate the house they are staying at, and discover the dark details of the girls in the house… they had been tortured and held captive by someone. After burning the house down to leave the girls in peace, they return to the prison and engage in some bow training for Beth. Choosing the next main road down the line, they discover Carl's hat, and after walking the road looking for other signs, Daryl realizes they are close to Woodbury.

CHAPTER 6 starts with them searching the ruins of Woodbury, and finding a sign from Carl, Rick and Michonne that they were headed N to Jasper. Daryl leaves the choice of staying or going to Beth, and after some debate, the decision is made to finish out the week of returning to the prison every day. There was nothing at the prison, so after randomly choosing a direction they follow it to a set of houses that will do to camp for the night. House secured, Daryl leaves Beth to try his hand at hunting in the surrounding woods, only to be caught in a tree he's used as stakeout while a herd passes underneath him. Beth falls asleep while on watch and wakes up to find the house has a visitor, a man named Nate. She talks with him for a few minutes, connecting the dots with the murder of the girls, and tries to escape; she fails and is knocked out.

Chapter 7 has Beth being tortured and threatened (but not actually raped), and trying to get loose from being tied up. It is rough, and even if you decide to go back and read the other chapters, I would suggest skipping these parts if you have any chance of being triggered. Interspersed through it are quick visits with Daryl on his trip back, when he reaches the house he realizes something isn't right. He enters and searches the house, and encounters Nate with his gun drawn. Pretending to be Merle to allay suspicions, he learns that Beth is still in the house, and once Nate relaxes enough to drop the gun, Daryl shoots him, and recues Beth. She doesn't want to be alone, so she and Daryl fall asleep holding hands.

A/N3: RESPONSE TO SOME REVIEWS...

I appreciate all of the review I received (a LOT so THANK YOU so MUCH!), but one of them stuck with me more than most. One guest complained that all he/she read lately was that Beth is raped. I can't speak to that as a literary device, because I write my story irrespective of what others have written. What I will say though, is that if it is bothering or boring you, then you are not paying attention to the world around you enough.

In America today, there is a sexual assault every TWO minutes. 1 in 4 (yes FOUR) women will be assaulted at some point in their lives if the current trends hold. And this is America; where there are laws and protections around to try and do what they can to prevent it, as well as a more open reporting system than many other nations. The rates in undeveloped and underdeveloped countries are both higher and lower – higher in the suspicions of rape, lower in the amount of instances actually reported to authority. (again, that 1 in 4, is of REPORTED rapes and attempts.)

Add in the world that Beth is in, with no law and everyone just doing what they feel is right, and this is what you get. Keep in mind also that of the groups Rick and Co. have encountered, there was the group of men from "Nebraska", the Governor, and his lackeys (both sets 1 and 2). The only good ones were random people here and there, and the crew from "Vatos". Now work your way down through the characters on the show… from before the show premiered and on, Ed raped Carol, Sophia quite probably would have been if she'd grown bigger, Lori had an attempted rape, and Maggie had the assault with the Governor. Daryl was abused by his dad, and though it is never clearly defined, it isn't a stretch in my mind that the bastard was abusive in all levels. Going beyond the tv show, in Michonne's backstory, along with her comic book storyline she is raped.

Also in the statistics, is the fact that 80% of rapes are woman 30 or younger, and Beth is unfortunately right in the demographic.

As for my history, I can say that I am lucky enough to have not experienced it myself, but believe me when I say that is pure luck. I will forever remember the night of one of our family reunions (they go on for a week with our family); the discussion came up, and let me tell you, 1 in 4 was low. There were 8 of us, and 5 acknowledged having been through something. Of those five, they ranged 40 years in age, (they were all 2nd/3rd cousins of each other) as well as location (all over the world, from US to Europe) and economic station (from average salary of less than 40,000 to upwards of a couple million.)

And I don't want to make this a woman's only thing, using only women's statistics, while the numbers are better, 1 in 33 males will go through the same thing, and their pain deserves to be acknowledged too. So while there is an unusual amount of stories involving it, there is also a sickening amount of it in the real world.

I honestly didn't want to put her through it, in fact I spent hours plotting out these sections, trying to come up with a way that put her in danger with Nate but didn't lead to this, but sitting at the table everything else I came up with rang false, and didn't lead where I wanted it to go. One of the promises I made myself when I decided to start writing again was that I would follow stories where they take me, and as much as I did NOT want to write the last chapter, I refused to shy away or back down because of it.

Stepping off my soapbox and hope you enjoy the chapter now… ~ Jenna

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Breakaway 8

Daryl woke up with a start when Bath cried out next to him.

"No… No…" She was crying softly and shaking her head back and forth.

"Beth," He said softly, and then repeatedly, trying to wake her. Finally, he resorted to shaking her shoulder. It was enough to jolt her awake, she flinched away from him instinctually. A second later, he could see her eyes clink into focus, a moment longer, and her brain caught up. She sagged against the bed and her breathing immediately settled. "It's okay." He told her gently, burying the hurt from when she first flinched away.

"Sorry." She muttered, wincing when talking pulled her split lip the wrong way. It hurt to move, but her bladder was sternly letting her know that staying in bed wouldn't be an option much longer. She shifted and groaned when the movement sent ripples of pain through her body.

"S'gonna get worse before it get better," he warned her from his side of the bed.

"Thanks for the warning" She told him, rising and grabbing the bed-stand to fight against the brief dizzy spell. If she had a concussion, it was milder than the one from her riding spill. She made her way slowly into the bathroom; the mirror reflected her face back, and she realized she was lucky only to be feeling the pain she was. At least if her reflection was any indication. Her left eye was mostly swollen shut, with dark bruises forming around it. The scratches and cuts that littered her face left her looking and feeling like she'd been scraped along the highway. Her split lower lip was double the size of the other, and the handprints on her neck just peeked through the opening of the hoodie sweatshirt. She moved carefully, feeling like a little old lady, as she did everything she needed to. By the time she had finished and opened the door, Daryl had risen out of bed and was waiting outside.

"Ya ready for me to patch up your wrists?" He asked, hand against the doorway.

"Wrists?" She questioned, before moving the right sleeve of the sweatshirt up and wincing as it pulled with some dried blood. "So that's what you meant." She said, carefully pulling up the other side. "Now's as good as any." She shrugged her shoulder.

"Go sit on the bed." He told her "I'll bring the stuff in."

She walked in the room, and was relieved to see he had made the bed. Gingerly sitting on the edge, she let her thoughts wander while she waited for Daryl to return. She knew how lucky she had been last night, and the more she thought about it, the more the close calls kept piling up.

If she'd been discovered sleeping,

If she'd reacted the wrong way and set him off.

If Daryl had been even 15 minutes later getting back.

She tried to fight them back, but soon the self-accusations started. As she thought, she picked at the bits of fuzz stuck to her wounds. It pulled and made it ooze more but the pain felt like some sort of penance for all the things she should have done.

She should never have fallen asleep on watch, even if it was dark enough to be safe.

She should never have left her gun anywhere, even in the house.

She should have listened to her instincts and shot Nate on sight.

She should have fought harder, done something, to keep her from being in that situation.

"It's not ya fault." Daryl said quietly from the doorway. He had an armful of medical stuff in his hands, and laid it out on the end table.

"How do you know?" She asked, picking at one scab a little harder

"Been through it." He told her, looking away. The sunlight streaming through the window was harsh, and cast strong shadows everywhere. Half his face was dark, but the half she could see showed a bitterness and rage usually reserved for killing walkers. "Don't wanna talk 'bout it."

"Okay." She told him, and sat silently for a few minutes while he worked on getting her wrists cleaned and ready for bandages. "I'm sorry." She told him softly.

"Shit. What ya got to be sorry for?" He asked her, laughing as he turned to grab the peroxide. "You aint don't nothing. This is gonna sting like a son of a-"

"Ahh" She cried out, when the burning nerves hit her brain. Daryl sat silently, while she waited for the fire to fade to a low burn. "You killed Nate." She said simply shrugging her shoulder. "At the prison once, you said the only think you'd ever killed was dead or dinner. You can't say that anymore."

"Yeah, well I couldn't say that before either. I took out a man at the prison. Bastard in the tank, maybe more since we don't know whose bullets hit who." He said wrapping the bandage around her right wrist first. "Hell, mighta killed before that getting your Sis an' Glen back at Woodbury."

"You did what you had to do." She told him sternly. "There's no shame in any of it."

"Know that Goldilocks." He answered back. He noticed that she flinched as he said it though. "What?"

"It's nothing," She said, shaking her head, "It's just he, he refused to call me by my name, and only called me by nicknames all night. Never used that one but still..."

"I get it." He answered, filing a folder in his head not to call her nicknames anymore. The thought bothered him more than he thought it should. "No nicknames, least till ya tell me I can. Still get ta tease ya bout them chicken legs though, right?"

"Shut up!" She told him, smiling. She didn't laugh the way she would have the day before, but he would take the smile, especially since it reached her eyes.

"Lemme have your other hand." She gave it to him without issue. "You got a decision to make." He told her, carefully moving the gauze so it lay against her skin the right way. "We ain't gonna make it to the prison today. It's 'bout two hours 'till sundown. Do ya wanna stay here over night or do you want to go out on the road a ways." Daryl knew they should stay, but he wasn't going to force that decision on her, if she needed to be out of this house that badly than they would just make do somewhere else for the night, even if it wasn't as secure.

She thought hard about it, the question challenging her in a way she didn't expect. Every fiber of her body wanted to be out of this house and away from here. But the logical part of her mind reminded her that there was food here, and that it was the only house on the street with boarded up windows. Plus, this time she wasn't letting Daryl go anywhere, and he could handle it in the small chance another bad guy came along. "I don't want to stay." She told him firmly. "But I know it's safer here with the windows and food than us taking our chances or spending another night in the car. This room, and upstairs is okay. Just don't make me go downstairs till it's time to go, ok?" She asked almost pleadingly.

"Think we can manage that." He told her.

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The next day they packed up and were out of the house before the sun had even begun to rise. It was going to be another humid day in Georgia, Beth though resignedly, feeling her hair stick to her skin already. She hated the sticky weather; in the spoiled part of her mind, one of the worse things about the apocalypse was the loss of air-conditioning. Her Mama had long joked that it was one of the only things that made living in the south bearable. Of course, the heat didn't bother Daryl at all. Figured.

They stopped on the trip to the prison to rest and eat; Daryl had been smart enough to not even suggest eating at the house, they had just loaded the SUV and left. They had pulled up to a small turn off, it didn't look like much, but after walking a short path, it had opened out to a fresh stream, with large boulders surrounded by trees. A couple walkers were slowly making their way towards them. Daryl took them out without issue, and then walked over to where Beth was sitting on the cooler stone. "You're gonna hate me for sayin' this, but we gotta get some trainin' done."

"Why?" She asked, not liking, but unable to hide the whine in her voice.

"Told ya' you're gonna feel worse before you feel better. Working out some of the kinks will help with that, and I'll feel better if I've taught ya some of the dirtier tricks I know." He looked out over the grounds. "Gotta do what I can."

"I don't wanna." She said, looking away. "Tomorrow maybe."

"Beth. Get up." He told her sternly.

"No."

"I ain't askin'." He told her. He knew this would set her off, but he figured now was as good a time as any. She'd been holding up too well, it was all a façade and he needed to get those cracks to break and start mending before they caused her to crumble when it mattered. He grabbed her arm; careful to grab somewhere he knew there was little bruising.

"Don't touch me!" She yelled at him, hitting him with the other arm and yanking the one in his hand away. He was looking at her so knowingly, and it set her off. It was all well and fine that he could help her now, but where was he then? She knew she was being irrational, but she just couldn't help it.

Daryl could read the anger in her eyes. "You wanna hit me, hit me." He told her, raising his arms in a come and get me gesture.

Beth didn't hesitate. Taking the step up closer to him, she punched out, hard, with her right hand. He easily blocked it and took another step back. She followed him, throwing out jabs with her left and right randomly, getting more and more worked up that none of them were landing. By that time, a couple of minutes had passed, she was panting with exertion and breathing heavily. They'd worked their way back several yards and while she wasn't landing any punches, she was still making him step away. It made her feel better, but not great.

"Ya done yet?" He asked her, putting his hands down with the lapse of punches.

"No." She told him, before swinging as hard as she could at his shoulder. Maybe it was the uneven ground, or maybe it was the fact that he really, really didn't expect her to actually connect, but either way, her fist met skin, and in trying to duck it Daryl ended up on the ground, Beth still punching while straddling him. "Why. Me?" She whispered between punches. They were coming lighter and slower now, he wouldn't have any bruises except from the first of them. Most were barely connecting and some weren't hitting him at all. Then they stopped altogether, Beth just straddling him and crying. "Not fair." She sniffled.

"Nothing in this world is fair anymore." He told her from below; he shifted a little and moved so he was at least half sitting up. "Shit, you was lucky before, some of us just went from one hell to another."

Something in the way he said it hit her, and she realized just what she had done. "I'm sorry," She told him, not actively crying but with tears running down her face. She scooted back until she was sitting between his now spread legs. "For before and for now. I don't blame you." She looked at him then, with a look that shook him to his core. It wasn't love, or anything crazy like that; but the only other time he'd seen it in his life was when Carol and he had a moment in the RV. Trust.

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An hour later, Beth and Daryl rumbled down the drive to the prison. Pulling up to the main gates, they parked and got out. Beth rolled her shoulders as she got out. "You were right about earlier." She called out to him.

"A Greene girl admitting I know what I'm doing? Is the world coming to an end?" He called out sarcastically, pulling himself up to sit on the hood of the car.

"Already did." She replied, stabbing a walker in the head as she did. There weren't many around, but it seemed like a couple always managed to make their way back every day. She was unsurprised that there was no sign of anyone. If she was honest with herself, she knew that if there hadn't been a sign yet, there probably wouldn't be. But they had agreed for the week, and she couldn't bring herself to write reuniting with her sister off yet.

Daryl watched as two more walkers came at them from about a hundred yards away. "Ya ready for these two or ya need some help?" He asked her.

"Team up." She answered, thinking that taking down two old and slow ones individually was one thing, but these two looked fresh.

"Alright then," He said, already stepping down from the SUV. He grabbed his crossbow, and an idea came to him. He passed the bow to her. "Take this an shoot the first one. Then I'll catch the second till ya ready for it. Get ya some moving target practice with that things."

She looked at the bow unsure, before raising it and trying to use the sights. "This is hard!" She yelled at him, growing more envious of the calm way he usually put walkers shot it. Between the uneven ground and the walkers staggered movements, every time she got one in her sights it left just as quickly.

"Ya gotta anticipate where they're gonna go." He told her, from off to the left of her.

"Anticipate what? They're walkers!" She yelled, back. They were getting closer and she instinctually took a few steps back. By this point, they were close enough that one had noticed Daryl and veered off.

"They wanna eat ya, you know it's coming for ya!" He yelled back, deciding to take his out quickly "Make the land work for ya."

"Make the land work for me?" She murmured, stepping back again and looking around. It was uneven here, but there was a patch of pavement behind her. She crossed over it and ran to a spot 20 feet or so from it, checking her knife to be ready just in case. She knelt down and set the walker in her sights. "Breath steady, relax, wait for it. " She reminded herself. Once he had both feet on, she let the bolt fly. Through the site, she saw the walker stagger, as the bolt glanced by and hit the side of its' head, but the thing kept on coming. "Damn." She said, before grabbing the knife at her side and taking it out properly.

"And that's why we're takin' the time to practice." Daryl said, walking up to her. "Not bad for a first time,"

"I missed it." She said, kicking at the corpse.

"Ya just didn't get a kill shot." He told her. "Took a few tries before I hit the things right when I was learnin' too." He looked down the road, and he could just see another one entering the lower gates. He picked up the bow and loaded another arrow, before passing it back to her. "Nice thing is, there's always another one to practice on." He told her, passing it back to her.

"Gee thanks." She said sarcastically, raising it. She had a feeling this was going to take a while

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Four days later, and her suspicion about her ability was right. She had still only gotten to the point where she could shoot a walker about half the time. If it was slow moving. If it was on smooth ground. Mostly if she was lucky. Those were a lot of ifs, and she was feeling very discouraged. Though, that also had to do with what day it was. They had searched the last of the local roads over the past few days, and found what felt to her like less than nothing. Today was the last day. They had both been silent so far on the way to the prison; though neither doubted what filled the others thoughts. Daryl was driving, and Beth sat, absently picking at the scabs on her wrists. They were healing well but they itched like crazy, by the time they got to the prison she was close to drawing blood.

"Stop that." Daryl told her.

"What?" She asked, before looking down and realizing what it was he was talking about. "Oh"

"We struck gold with that one development, got gas to stay a few days longer." He said, playing with the keychain, the string on it was so long it was hitting his knee. It was a compass on a chain, though he'd smirked when they found it, since it was broken. It spun unevenly in its case, and couldn't point north ever. They had traded out the Explorer for a newer pickup truck, it had better tires and had better ground clearance for when they had to go off road. Plus, she just suspected Daryl felt better in a truck.

"If no one's gone back to the prison yet, it means they've moved on." She told him "No sense staying anymore."

He grunted agreement at that. "We'll just see when we get there."

They both lapsed into silence after that, and the rest of the drive when smoothly. As they got closer to the prison gates, Beth felt her heart race, its pace quickening. When they reached the place where their sign was, it quickly plummeted though, and the breath she'd been holding came out in one fell swoop. "Stupid to get hopeful after this time" She muttered to Daryl, made at herself for going through the same thing every day.

'Maybe." He said, "But where would you be if ya didn't?"

She didn't have an answer to that so she just asked the question she'd been wondering about the last few miles. "What do we do from here?"

"Got a map in the glove compartment. Pull it out and we can come up with some places to head." Beth did what he told her, and he unfolded it carefully over the dashboard. There was a circle around the prison, and she could identify all the roads leading out of it; she matched them up in her head with the trips they had taken in the last week. "Closest town's east, name's Carson, then after that we could swing down south to Sundley. Be nice to go towards Parsons too, 'smaller, but we didn't hit it near as much as the others. Last time it still had a bunch of provisions." He said, thinking of their dwindling food supply.

Beth frowned, fighting the bitterness. Was this going to be their lives now, going from one house to another, hoping to be lucky enough to avoid being bit and praying to find a person anywhere? She was working to remember what her daddy had said about keeping faith, but it was hard. "Any's as good as the other." She told him, opening her door and getting out. Calmness had settled over her, fatalistically thinking it didn't matter anyways. Daryl got out of his side, and together they worked to take apart the sign they had left in the grass, breaking to take out a couple of walkers every now and then. By the time they were done it was several hours past noon. They had scavenged a thing of spray-paint, and left D+B to Carson on several outside walls. They looked at each other at that point, knowing there was no more stalling. "Went to Carson as a kid." Daryl told her. "Pa was on a drinking binge and I left, picked a spot on the highway and went where anyone was willing to take me. Lasted for a couple a months before I got caught by the cops and sent back home."

"How old were you?" She asked

"'Bout 15. Woulda been fine too." He told her smirking. "Cept I tried to date the wrong girl; her Daddy was a cop and looked me up in the system to make sure I was good enough for his little girl." He shook his head "Worst date ever. She could barely look me in the eyes when I came to the door, just went and got her dad, then I got to spend 4 hours in the car with him on the way back home."

"That's pretty awful," She told him chuckling. "Worse than mine. Jimmy and I had a football game to go to, he was sick but didn't want to miss it so he tried to fake it. Got an hour away from home and he got sick all over the inside of the car. Had to drive back, stopping every few minutes for him to get sick out the window, and ended up spending the next few days feeling it myself. She giggled and shook her head. "It's funny, even though I'm mostly used to the smells of death, I still can't stand the smell of vomit. Though Judith tried to help me with that by how many times she got me."

He laughed, "She was pretty good at that. I think she knew you hated it, she almost never got anyone else." He smiled; an echo of her giggles dancing in his head. Then he looked to the sky and took note of where the sun was. "Get ya stuff. It's time." He said solemnly.

Nodding her head, she went to where her pack was, and shouldered it regretfully. The air was hot and sticky; there were a couple clouds on the far horizon but she thought it meant nothing more than some slight showers. Looking around her, memories of the months in the prison kept floating to the top of her consciousness. Weeding in the yard with Carl. Cooking in the kitchen with Carol. Training with Michonne and Daryl to get stronger. She smiled at most of them, letting them soak into her; already she had learned that physical reminders were useless and impossible to keep. Soon the strength of the memories would fade. The feeling of Judith snuggled into her, gently cooing in her sleep. She and Maggie gleefully playing "would you rather" to pass the time doing wash. Daddy reading from his Bible after dinner, his calm voice soothing all of them as they worked to integrate the people from Woodbury. After today his grave wouldn't be visited again, at least not by her. Ignoring Daryl, she walked towards it.

He saw her go, and through it was getting late, didn't say a word; he just followed farther behind and kept an eye out for trouble.

She knelt down, the grass spongy on her knees. She knew he wasn't in the grave; her Daddy wasn't anywhere she could really talk to him, but it didn't stop her from feeling the need. "Not sure what's going to happen to us now Daddy. We don't know where Maggie is or even if she's alive. You taught me to have hope, and I'm gonna do what I can to hang onto that." She sniffled, and wiped at the falling tears. "But I need your help. Miss you like mad, and I don't know where to go. Daryl's with me, and he's a real good man, you know that. He's all I got right now, and I am terrified of losing him. Help to keep us safe, and get through all this." She looked at the grave for a moment, then looked up at the sky, and knew it really was time. "I gotta get going now Daddy, and I don't know that I'll ever be back. I probably won't. I need your strength for what we have to do now. Thank you for all you did for us. I love you daddy." She rose up and turned, and saw for the first time that Daryl was standing just behind her, keeping lookout. He had heard everything he said, and stoically stood there while she hugged him, timidly hugging back. She breathed in deeply with emotion and was comforted by the unique smell of Daryl, woods and dirt and _him. _He felt just as comforted by the feel of her soft hair against his arm.

"Ya ready?" He asked her after a minute.

"Never" She answered simply, knowing it was the truth. "But yes." She stepped away and started walking back to the truck.

He watched her walk away, and felt a surge of protectiveness over her he had never felt before. In the fading sunlight, her hair took on a halo quality, and it struck him that she looked like an angel. He may have been doing the bulk of the protection work, but she was his reminder of all that could be good and right; she was his family. "Then again," he thought wryly, watching her walk to the car and easily taking out a walker. "Time's was coming soon where she would probably save me." He looked down at the keychain in his hand and smiled.

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A/N: So like I said before, there is no update schedule to this, because I just don't know what like with two small kids will entail. My hubby and I are on a business trip right now, so lucky for you our flight was delayed, and I was able to bang the rest of this one out. I don't know how much time I will have over the course of the next few days, so I will warn to not expect anything else for at least another week. Hopefully after we get home and settled I will be back up to my normal writing routine, but that may not be for another couple weeks

Also, I tried doing research for towns that are close to where the prison is, but the spotty Wifi at the airport didn't let me get that far, so instead I just made up places. If there are any towns in GA by those names they are not the ones I mean, and I hope that doesn't throw anyone too much! Take care!


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Hope you liked this chapter, it took me longer than usual to write – we had a business trip that took out several days and then got home and everyone was sick on top of it. Now it's just back to almost normal life, except for a few things. However since the holidays are over, and my family has several weekly commitments that take a good chunk of time, I really don't see updating this more than once a week if I am lucky. Don't worry about the slowdown, and be patient. The one good thing about the flights back and forth is that I now have the next 10 chapters planned completely out – they are pretty well developed in my head, now I just need the chance to get them on a page! As always, I own nothing, but cherish the process and the reviews. Thank you for helping me grow to be a better writer!

Carson, at one point, had been a bustling manufacturing town. Then the jobs had been outsourced, and it spent the better part of a decade fighting a losing battle to keep itself afloat; by the time walkers were thrown into the picture, it was nothing so much as a ghost town. Boarded up windows covered most of the shops, and the few straggling walkers seem to all be locals of the town; most were wearing the uniforms of the garage and diner down the street. Beth fell into step behind Daryl on their way to the general store. It was the first place most of the others would check, and was a good starting point to see what the town had to offer for provisions. There were boards on all the windows, but the door had only a few slats of wood across the window, with space enough that when he was close enough Daryl could see in between them.

"Ain't been hit yet." He told her, seeing only a little through the light filtering in, but stores enough on the shelves.

"Good," She told him, keeping a lookout for anything to come wandering down the street. So far, there had only been a few, and experience said there had to be more somewhere, even if they hadn't come out yet.

Daryl knocked on the glass, and waited. "C'mere ya bastards". He waited a few minutes and then knocked again, louder this time, but nothing moved. "Seems good," he told her, picking at the lock.

"I hate how easy you do that." Beth told him, walking into the store. With the door open, more light filtered in; a layer of dust coated everything. Beth was certain the gloomy air about the place was there long before walkers were outside. Crossing the main aisle, she saw her favorite candy, and opened up the wrapper.

The crinkling paper made Daryl turn, and laugh at her. "Sour Patch Kids? Really? Woulda' pegged ya as a chocolate girl."

"Oh I'm that too." She told him, grimacing as the tartness from the sour patch kids affected her more than they ever used to. "Just depends on my mood." She told him, putting the kids back down on the shelf forlornly, before moving to the chocolate section and putting several different bars in her bag. "I'll pack real stuff too." She told Daryl before he could chime in with his two cents.

He had worked his way to the back of the store at that point, the wall that held the jerky was opposite the coolers. He grabbed a handful, and then tossed the teriyaki to Beth. "Here, ya favorite, right?"

"Thanks" She called to him, wandering along the pharmacy wall, grabbing some meds and everything else they would need. She moved behind the counter next, and bent down to check underneath for any weaponry. She felt along the top, ad grinned when her hands skipped along the barrel of a gun. She pulled and wiggled, and detached it from the underside. "Look what I found." She called out to Daryl smiling.

He nodded in approval. "Bullets to go with it?"

"Two boxes." She said, tossing them to his bag. "Not a lot, but not bad either." She shrugged her shoulder and went back to the register, looking for anything else of interest. There wasn't much, except stale cookies and fliers for missing pets. She shifted to the side and saw a sale flyer for an equipment store. "Daryl, what do you think of this?" She asked, walking to him and passing him the flier. It was obviously a mom and pop store, printed out on basic printer paper. It advertised hunting and fishing supplies. "Think we can find something useful?"

"Worth a shot," He said, unfolding his map and finding the address in the tiny square that was Carson. "Two blocks away. Can get there on foot if we want to keep quiet. Still bugging me we ain't seen more walkers yet."

"Me too." She said, checking that her knife and guns were ready. They quickly loaded up the car with all the food they felt comfortable taking, then made their way out onto the street. Still quiet. They moved quickly and quietly, Beth unconsciously emulating Daryl's walking style to keep down the sounds of their movement. The first street was empty, but when they turned the corner to the second, they faced a group of walkers, slowly waking at the sight of them. "Found 'em" Daryl said, before taking aim and shooting. He took four down before they were too close to shoot anymore, then brought out his Bowie and quickly stabbed the closest few in quick succession. Beth had her knife out and ready, and fell in behind him as they worked their way down the street. She didn't know where they had all come from, but soon she had kicked back and stabbed several too. "Go back?" She called out to him, kicking and slicing at the walkers circling them.

"Hell No!" He called out in front of her. "Closest to the store now. We go back we don't get another chance." He looked around. There were still a lot around them, but they had already taken down a dozen together. One big push and they could take them all out. As he kicked, punched, and stabbed he kept an eye on Beth; she was holding up well. Some of their lessons had paid off; she could handle herself and had taken out several. One got too close to her and his breath caught in his throat, but before he could leap into action and do anything about it, she had already stabbed it up through, up and under its chin and moved on to the next. A few minutes of frenzied fighting later, and they were standing in an empty, though much smellier, street.

"Lets not do this again anytime soon." She said while fighting to catch her breath.

"Not if we can help it." He answered back. "Looks like it paid off though." They were standing just outside the shop. "Nellies Nature Necessities." He muttered, going up to the door and kicking it in. The shop was looted at some point, but there were still plenty of things left behind that they could use. Going a little further in, he saw two walkers wearing the kelly green shirts to match the sign, and took them both down quickly. He and Beth worked together to move a display case against the now broken door. It took them several minutes of struggling, but they could be confident that no walkers would be able to get through anytime soon. They both turned and started surveying the store, quickly clearing the rest of it for any more danger. The knife case was empty, the broken glass littering the floor. There were still boxes behind the counter, and Daryl found several more left nearby for restocking. "C'mere." He called to Beth, who was looking over the camping supplies.

"What?" She asked, before noticing the knives in his hand. "More for me?"

"Hold yer hand out, palm up." She did as she was told, and he grabbed the knives and started laying them in her palm. "Too big. Too big." He said at the first few, they were larger than the one she was using. "What the hell is this good for, a splinter?" He asked, at one that couldn't have had a blade longer than an inch. "You could scratch a guy to death before that thing did ya a damn bit of good." He said, throwing it behind his back, not watching where the useless thing landed. "These four are the right size for ya hand. Hold 'em all and chose a favorite. Carry that one and a backup – we'll take the others for if we need replacements." He wandered away from the knives and headed to the back of the store.

She lifted all of them in her hand, one by one; honestly, to her they all looked and felt the same. She didn't know a thing about brand names or quality, but they had all passed Daryl's test, so she opened them up to try to find something about one or the other than would suit her better. In the end, two weren't bad but just didn't feel right, and wound up in her bag as backups. The other two were equally good, but one had a camouflage design on it she liked so for that reason it won out on the nondescript one. She made her way to the back of the store and found him surveying the bow section.

"Feel like going shopping?" He asked her.

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It took them over two hours to find the right bow for her, a little thing, pretty to her at least. It just felt right in her hands. It would still take some getting used to, but she could see herself carrying this everywhere without issue, and the practice shots they had taken in the store left her feeling somewhat confident of hitting her mark. Plus, she could reload it, which after the difficulties she'd had with Daryl's was one of the things she really cared about. "Think ya can take out a walker or two with that?" He asked her, catching her running her hands up and over the main shaft of it several times.

"Thinking I'm gonna get a shot real soon." She replied, gesturing to the windows of the shop. Their earlier fight must have woken the other walkers in the town, there were several dozen milling around outside, even though she could have sworn a few minutes ago it was deserted. So far, they had escaped notice, but eventually their luck would run out. "How do they just pop up like that?" She asked annoyed.

"Dunno." He said, gathering his supplies, and checking and re-checking that everything for both bows was ready. "So much for bringing the car 'round to get more later. Carry what ya can and we'll just make do,"

"Right." She said, shaking her head and mentally preparing herself. "Don't know what's out the back door, but it's gotta be better than that, right?" She asked him nervously. The shadows of walkers kept passing over the dust-covered windows.

"Sounds good." He told her, quietly leading her to the back of the storeroom. He pushed his head against the door and listened quietly. Save for Beth's soft breathing from behind him, he couldn't hear anything. "We go fast this time. Get to the car and we leave this town in the dust." He told her. She got a cross look on his face, so he added, "Anyone else woulda heard the noise of us fight'n and figured where we went. They ain't here. Just gotta try the next town down the line."

"Okay." She told him, not happy but not denying the truth in what he said. "Ready." She told him, waiting for the moment he felt was right to open the door.

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The flight back to the car had gone easily. Beth wasn't as good a shot as she would like to be, but she had held her own in the hand-to-hand department, and before too long they were slowly making their way out of town proper. When they got another couple of miles down the road there was one building, randomly sticking out in the landscape. "Pull over, let's see." She told him. Daryl brought the truck around so she could try to read the signs, and quietly said "Carson Manufacturing Museum. Now on the National Register of Historic Places." She looked around, there were no cars in the lot and the place looked long deserted. "Might be something in here?" She asked him.

"Maybe." He said, pessimistically. "Looks like the damn thing was deserted just like the rest of the town. Could use a place to hide out for the night though. "He eyed the sky; they had a little while to go, but the sooner in, the better their chances of not spending a night exposed in the truck. They got out quickly, and made their way to the front doors. They were made of glass, but had deadbolts along the handles. "Don't wanna break the glass and can't get through them bolts." He said, walking the edge of the building. A couple hundred feet later and an old steel door with cinderblock steps greeted him "Gotcha." He said, before taking out his knife and working his magic.

Whatever the museum was really for, the building it was in was an old factory, with tall high set windows, to let in and save on as much lighting cost as possible. It was nearly five at night, but they could see clearly. They worked efficiently to clear the area of any possible threats, but save for finding some rotten animal corpses, and a broken window on the second floor, that would explain how they got trapped inside there was nothing. They went to the truck and brought their go-packs inside.

Daryl settled down immediately, but Beth just couldn't bring herself to sit. Knowing the area was safe; she kept her knife close but headed towards the gift shop. There were old snacks and sodas, and books about the area's history. "Yes!" She said happily, when she found the t-shirt rack. She stripped off the dirty one she was wearing and traded it in for a pink one that simply said **Carson GA**. There was a black one hanging on the men's rack, so she grabbed the right size for Daryl. Walking along the register line, the candy wrappers shone brightly in the faded light, the time and lack of sun hadn't been enough to fade their colors yet. The M&M's made her smile with thoughts of Carl, so she grabbed a bag, before helping herself to a little bit of everything. She walked back to where Daryl was and found him sleeping, so she left the shirt lying by his head, with a Snicker's bar on top.

Wandering up the steps to the exposed second level of the museum, she looked at all the stuff that was in it. A bunch of rusty manufacturing equipment, and advertisements for things she had never heard of. There wasn't much to hold her interest, but the sunlight coming through the windows was pretty, and turned the sky a brilliant red. A good sign by the old wives tale, and that made her happy. She crept along the edge of the room, feeling comforted by the fact it was all exposed, there was nowhere for anyone to be hiding. When she reached the windows, she looked out and could see a good portion of the parking lot, along with their parked truck. When she squinted, she thought she could just see the outline of some of Carson's buildings off in the distance behind some trees.

The light would die quickly now, the sun starting to settle on the horizon. She took one last look at the second floor, and made her way down to the lobby. Daryl was still asleep, so she quietly made her bunk close to his, and laid down, looking up to the ceiling. The moon was just starting to crest the window, and old nursery rhymes went through her head. She hummed herself to sleep.

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When Daryl woke up a few hours later, it was still dark, and Beth had scooted herself in her sleep so that her hand was resting on his arm. She hadn't been able to sleep since… well… without that close contact, and as much as if bothered him sometimes, he wouldn't take it away from her. He lay silently, and looked to his side for his water bottle. He saw the t-shirt and candy bar; the moonlight coming through the window danced along the reflective paper. He shifted slightly to grab it, and froze when the movement brought Beth even closer. She'd scooted in so that he had no choice but to lift his arm around her to lay it down; she was nestled with her head on his chest breathing softly. He knew this wasn't right, and started to shift away, but stopped when she grabbed at his vest and frowned. When he stopped fighting and fidgeting, she immediately calmed down.

"Fine." He uttered to her, and ate the candy bar. It tasted stale and flat on his tongue, but then the ones he had in his childhood hadn't been the peak of freshness either, and settled back down to sleep.

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When Beth woke up, it was because the sun shining through the eastern windows made it feel like she was cooking. Then she realized it might not have to do with the sun so much as the very warm body currently wrapped around hers. Her body instantly started to panic before she recognized the arm as Daryl's. "What the?" She asked softly, turning and feeling his body along the length of hers. She knew she'd fallen asleep an arm's length away from him, but at some time during the night one or both of them had shifted; now her head was pillowed by one arm and the other was wrapped around her waist. He looked calm and sedate in sleep, the usual undercurrent of angst suppressed for now. Something in her twisting must have started to wake him up though, he opened his eyes and blinked, before realizing just how they were laying and pushing away. He stood and walked a couple feet away from her.

"Ya know, it's one thing to grab me in your sleep, it's another to wake up to ya watching me." He said angrily.

"I wasn't watching you." She answered back annoyed. "I just woke up too, was trying to figure out what was going on."

"You ain't good at keeping ya arms to yourself is what's going on." He bit out, before cursing himself inside when she flinched away at his words. "Ya grabbed me when you was sleeping, I couldn't' move away without waking ya, so I went back to sleep, and then," He paused, gesturing towards her "that happened."

"It's not a big deal." She told him, remembering the months on the road before the prison; it wasn't unusual for people to wake up in awkward positions. "Remember traveling the road, this was just like that." She told him.

"Never slept near enough to anyone for that to happen. Just had fun watching you all blush when you woke up." He smirked at that. "T-Dog always had a crush on you after some of those nights."

"No, he had a crush on Carol. Could have sworn you did too. Then again, could of sworn she had it back" She told him, a little afraid but still insanely curious to the answer. They had danced around each other so long, but no one had been able to get either of them to admit anything.

"Maybe." He muttered, looking down and kicking at his boot. "Hell, neither of us ever had a good thing in our lives. Not with our history. Never wanted to take that step and ruin anything." He spit at the floor, "Hell lotta good waiting did us."

"Did you see what happened to her?" Beth asked. "The escape from the prison was bad, and I kept some of it locked away, but I've been remembering things, and I didn't see what happened to her. The more I think of it, I don't even know that I saw her that day."

"You didn't." He told her, cursing and thanking Rick at the same time that she hadn't been there. "She's the one that killed Karen and David" At Beth's shocked look; he took a breath and continued. "She did it to protect us, least that's what she was thinkin', stop the sick from spreading an all. But we still had the outbreak, and Rick figured it out. After that, he said he was afraid Tyreese would do something to her 'bout Karen, so he took her on a supply run, got her a workin' car, supplies, and sent her off."

"How could he do that?" She asked, getting upset "That wasn't his choice to make."

"'Parently he felt otherwise." Daryl laughed bitterly. "Was gonna chase after her that next day, make Tyreese see reason, something so she wasn't out on her own like that. Then the Governor came."

Beth shook her head and rubbed at her eyes, trying to process all the information she'd heard. "So she's out there somewhere too?"

"Yeah." Daryl answered. "Somewhere. Rick left her out by route 15, with a car. She's smart, and come a hell of a ways from when I first met her on that quarry." Daryl laughed at that, remembering the woman afraid of everything, though with good reason. "You can thank your stars you never met her husband, he was a no good son of a bitch too – reminded me of my Pa. Bastard was the only one at camp that left the world better with him gone."

"I'm glad he wasn't with you. Daddy wouldn't have let a man like that stay on our farm. Barely let you stay, thanks to Shane. Well, and you." She smirked at him.

"Hey now, I'm alright in the end, ain't I?" He asked, joking.

"Minus the temper" She replied. "And why does my hair smell like snickers?"

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An hour later, they were mostly packed and almost ready to leave the museum, but the sky darkening around them had them debating about staying for another day. "Heavy storm comes in we could be in a world of trouble if this thing gets stuck in the mud."

Beth frowned at that, the thought of traipsing through mud wasn't appealing even if she was now equipped for it. "Nothing for it then, guess we can spend another day in the museum." She shrugged. They had plenty of food and a decent about of ammo, at least for the trouble it was worth to get it in the town. She tuned back towards the building and walked inside. The sticky weather was even worse inside the building. The daylight illuminated things she hadn't noticed the day before though, and the sign that said ROOF ACCESS drew her like a moth to the flame. The thought of being outside under the coming rain was intoxicating. "I'm going up on the roof." She called out to Daryl; he just shook his head.

When she climbed the stairs, she found the door unlocked, and breathed deeply when she first stepped out. The roof itself smelt of old asphalt, and something gross she couldn't place, but the breeze from the coming storm brought in a sweet scent she cherished. The clouds overhead were rumbling and gurgling, and she waited for those first drops eagerly. Even the tall trees around the building seemed to be lifting their limbs in anticipation. She didn't have to wait long; soon she felt the splattering against her skin. She lifted her arms up and laughed joyfully when the first thunderclap overhead released a torrent, which washed away the grime and dust that seemed to cling to her without end.

She went over to the door, meaning to call Daryl up to get clean, but frowned and kicked it when she found it locked from the outside. Banging on it, Daryl opened the door a few minutes later. "Have'n issues?" He asked, taking in soaked appearance. Her hair hung in wet tendrils, sticking to her face; the shirt she wore was just barely decent, the rain making it almost but not quite see-through. She kicked her boots off and stuck them inside the door, jamming one in to the doorframe to keep it open.

"C'mon." She told him, grabbing his hand and pulling to get him out. He didn't know why, but after taking off his leather vest, he let himself follow her. The rain felt warm against him, refreshing and cleansing without being too cold. He laughed as Beth swung around, caught by the sight; woman and little girl combined. She laughed as the wind whipped around them, before running up to him and trying to get him to join her further out.

"Not happenin'" He laughed at her,

"Please?" She asked him; when he just shook his head again, she shrugged, "suit yourself."

He watched her spin for another minute, before stepping out from the building, and letting the water run in currents down his back. She was right; it did feel good to be clean. His boots were already in the doorway, so he toed off his dirty socks and rolled up his pants. The lighting and thunder didn't concern him; there were enough taller trees around the building. Finding a seat on the air conditioner housing, he let the water run down him. Before too long Beth sat down next to him, the energy of the first rainfall starting to fade away.

"Shame we don't have bathing suits or something." She told him, stretching her arms out again and wiping her hair away from her face.

"Never worn a suit before, never gonna now." He answered her. "If I can't do it with my clothes on, I don't do it." She shot him and incredulous look, a beat later he realized what he said. "Hell you know what I mean."

She just giggled in response. The lighting was so close above them it made their hair stand on end. A bolt hit a tree on the other side of the parking lot.

"Getting too close for ya?" Daryl asked, leaning over and whispering in her ear.

"A little." She told him "But I still don't want to go inside yet. When are we gonna get a chance like this again?"

"Storms just passing over us. Soon it'll be on its way out and we'll just have a bit of rain. Just gotta get through this worst bit."

She fixed him with a stare at that. "Is that where we are? In the worse of it?" She tilted her head up to the sky, and let the rain fall fresh on her face. "Is this the turning point?"

"Don't know 'bout that" He said, shaking his head; water droplets flew off the shaggy ends and splattered his arms. "But can't think of it getting' much worse."

She nodded her head, before rubbing her arms, fighting the coldness that was coming from the inside. "It's gotta turn around sometime." She agreed. "Glad you're here till it does."

"Me too." He answered. The storm was moving on, the lighting fewer and farther between, but the rain still fell steadily. "Me too."

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A/N Since I've had a couple people ask about my decision in regards to Rick handling the Carol situation, and I am not going to have another chapter up for a week or more, I am going to quickly address it here, and again at the top of the next chapter. Do I think Rick did was right, and the best option? - Yes, emphatically. But do I necessarily think it was Ricks call to make - no. At that point in time he had ceded his "Ricatatorship" to the council, and was living it up as farmer boy. He may have come to the realization that he couldn't _just _be a farmer, as Carol said; but in the government and most people of the prison, that's still all he was.

As for everyone hating on Rick, in my mind, they aren't - except for these two (and the girls when/if they ever find out.) Most of the others would have no problem with what Rick did, but these two? Daryl is well known for having a handle on his emotions (sarcasm). He has Ricks back all the way, but with the emotions he felt/feels for Carol, I still think he would harbor some rough feelings, that would express themselves out in anger to her (justifiably so) and Rick, being the cause of the situation (not so fair, but very realistic in my mind). Beth on the other hand, had no idea ANY of this had happened, until just now, being told it by Angry Daryl. I know when I usually get blindsided, I get mad - it's a very human response. I believe that she and Carol ended up having a pretty close relationship- they are both nurturers by heart and were responsible for a lot of joint jobs (Judith, cooking, cleaning, ect.) When a friend betrays you like that (and in my mind, what Carol did was a betrayal - to the beliefs and betterment of the prison), that betrayal _hurts_, and when we hurt, we get mad. Add in that in her mind, Rick was again, just a farmer; and that the council was the one that had been making all of the decisions, and Ricks latest decision had cost her her father and her home, and this was where I wound up with them both.

While I cannot share if or when I will ever introduce other characters from the show back into this story, I honestly have the entire universe thought out, and have a basic outline of every other character and what happened to them as well. Will I ever write them out? I don't know, but when I write, I like it to be a fully realized world, so I did devote time to all of them.

Again, thank you so much for taking the time to read and/or review this story! I hope this finds you all happy and well :)


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